Must Be Some Kind of Backyard Portal
by Mooka333
Summary: When the first thing fell from the sky, she panicked. By the third, she was just pissed. Then the helmet came through the split in the sky. Shortly afterwards, so did it's owner. Now he can't get back... And he needs to stop calling her "little wretch". Rated for possible adult themes and swearing. 30-ish years pre-Thor. Loki/OC -ish... Mostly Complete, just dusting for errors
1. Chapter 1

***** This one's been gathering dust in my folder o' plot bunnies forever, so I thought I'd dust it off and see if it works – clearly I own nothing of the Marvel universe, but the multitude of OCs are all mine! Hope you guys enjoy! *****

At first she thought a plane had crashed, or that maybe a sky-jumper had dropped something. Melanie watched the sky anxiously for a few minutes longer, holding the strange object in her hands as she did. She was greeted with clear blue and scorching heat. No more falling shoe-things; that much seemed certain.

Her gaze dropped from the sky and she scanned her backyard again. Nothing looked out of place, except, of course, for the dent in the middle of the green plastic patio table that the shoe-thing had left when it landed. Melanie pursed her lips and squinted back up at the sky for a moment longer. _Do I report this? Like, call 911 or something_? She thought skeptically. Her imagination leapt ahead, leading her down the inevitable path of having to tell a bored sounding operator in Santa Fe that she was mildly alarmed because a strange shoe had dropped from an empty sky onto her patio table.

"Not gonna happen," she muttered to herself, walking back towards her trailer. Her yard was not much more than the now-dented green plastic table, its two matching chairs, a flower pot with a bunch of windmills stuck in it and lots of rocks. And gravel. And more rocks. No grass. She couldn't even imagine getting pretty green grass to grow permanently out here, the way it did up in town on the wealthier streets. She couldn't imagine wanting to waste the water, or the money. Or the effort, really - she assumed growing grass in this climate was a time-consuming affair, and if there was anything she enjoyed avoiding, it was time-consuming affairs.

She pulled her screen door open and listened to the hinges give out their familiar _scree_ of protest. _Mom would insist I fix that_ , she thought ruefully. Other thoughts came on the heels of that mental image, and Melanie purposefully shoved them away, putting the shoe down onto the slightly sturdier dinette table inside her trailer. She pulled open the fridge, grabbed a beer, popped the cap, and then tossed herself down at the dinette. The bottle-neck of the beer was cold and slick and she relished the feeling in her hand's grip as she took a swig.

The shoe-thing caught her attention again, and she stared at it, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate plot for a practical joke, possibly by Eli, or Tala and Lulee across the way. _Nah, they're too lazy, besides, where would they even get a shoe like this_? She convinced herself easily enough, but the shoe still sat before her, obvious evidence that _someone_ had definitely left it for her.

If she had to describe the shoe, she'd say the closest thing that resembled it was a wedge sandal, with gossamer fabric that flowed out the sides, obviously there to wind about one's leg to hold the shoe in place. Elaborate gold-laced designs traversed gracefully all along the 'wedge' itself, and huge (probably fake) diamond-like jewels sat in the exact center of the strap that went across the toe area. The fabric there was the same unearthly soft material as the long flowing straps off the sides.

 _You can hardly call it a wedge_ , she thought critically, examining the layer after layer of nearly-holographic looking material that comprised the majority of the shoe. Cautiously, Melanie poked one finger into the side of the 'wedge' and jerked her hand back in surprise when the entire shoe appeared to flicker in a wave of gold and rose pattern. The waves settled after a moment and Melanie turned her hand over to look at her finger, suddenly concerned that the strange material may have done something to her skin.

She wanted to think it was some kind of crazy high-fashion shoe, but she really couldn't buy into that theory, she'd never seen fabrics or materials like this anywhere. The sparkling wave produced by her prodding finger was not coming from a power source of any kind, it almost looked like grains of sand, alive with color and movement, were part of the materials that built the shoe. Melanie shook her head and drained the last of her beer, before getting up and stepping across the tiny center tiled area of her trailer, to the sink. She immediately washed her hands, aware that she had no idea what the golden dancing sand the shoe seemed to be made of was, and also, it was a shoe. Shoes go on feet. Feet are gross.

She proceeded to finish up washing her breakfast dishes, which she had been in the middle of doing earlier when the resounding and alarming 'thump' of the shoe landing on her table outdoors had interrupted her. Had there been a slight fizzle to the air just before? She was pretty sure she got goosebumps, and a weird, hair-lifting feeling on the back of her neck, right before the thump of the shoe.

"Idiot," she taunted herself under her breath, wondering if she was buying in to the crazy that seemed to affect a lot of her neighbors. Aliens, voices, spiritual beings and the like were always doing or saying something to someone around these parts, if you listened to her neighbors. Melanie herself had never felt anything except slightly embarrassed living in this area, certainly nothing extra-ordinary. _Does a shoe qualify as sci-fi?_ She wondered, turning around and leaning her hip against the counter top, regarding the shoe-thing once again with skepticism.

After a long moment, she grabbed the shoe and tossed it into the cupboard where she kept her own shoes, wanting it out of sight so that it could become out of mind, at least until she got her day in order. She didn't get a lot of full days off, since her shifts at Marge's were usually kind of long, so when she did, she had lots of shit to do. Grabbing up her little wicker laundry basket, Melanie stepped back out into the baking sun and walked to the other end of the trailer, to the little lean-to she had there, where the washing machine lived. A hanging shelf from the roof of the lean-to held her laundry soap and liquid fabric softener, and she made quick-work of throwing her load of clothes in.

She was just picking the basket up off the ground, to take back inside, when an itching shiver ran down her spine and she spun around just in time to see a shower of little metallic objects rain down from the sky, directly onto her plastic yard-table. Her eyes bounced back and forth from the surface of the table, where some of the metal bits were now buried into the plastic and back up to the little rift in the sky above the table. It looked like the sky had split it pants, about 15 feet off the ground; the dazzling, clear, and normal blue of the regular sky completely surrounded the strange, abruptly dark, split.

She was terrified to move, images of the metal bits burying themselves into her skull playing past her mind's eye, so she cringed against the washer, hearing and feeling it rumble on through the wash cycle against her backside. After 30 seconds, the split in the sky suddenly flattened to a thin line and then disappeared. Melanie gaped at the spot it had been in, feeling her eyes sting a little from lack of blinking. There was no evidence at all that it had ever existed, except for the litter of metal bits all over her back yard.

Slowly, warily, Melanie crept toward the table and bent to the ground, picking up one of the metal bits from the dry, dusty earth. She turned it over in her hands and realized that it was currency of some kind. Almost a coin, except with more heft to it, thicker, not a perfect circle. There was a number on it, 25, and she found that oddly reassuring. Seeing the number broke the temporary spell the split and the almost-coin had on her, and she moved quickly, picking up all the bits off the ground, dumping them into an empty coffee can she had sitting just under the door-steps to the trailer. She'd intended to use the coffee can as an ash-tray for when Lulee stumbled over after work, but figured this was more important.

The almost-coins pinged and clinked against one another as she dropped them in the can, and after she'd dug the ones imbedded in the table out with a butter knife, she was almost a little irritated. The green plastic table was looking a little pock-marked and rough now; Melanie had been so pleased to find it at a garage sale a couple of years before, and had always thought that it, and its chairs, brought the much needed green her yard needed to truly be considered an alright yard. Now the poor table looked like someone had burnt it with cigarettes or gouged it with knives - signs of trashy-living that she would rather avoid.

Melanie snapped the coffee can's plastic lid back on top of it and stomped inside, stooping to tuck it into her shoe-cupboard with the shoe-thing. The weird sky-collection was growing and she wasn't pleased. However, she was still reluctant to report what had happened; living so close to Roswell had its drawbacks, the authorities didn't believe anything anyone said anymore, no matter how much proof you had... unless you were talking about regular, earthly things. Melanie leaned her hands on her small kitchen counter and tilted her head to look up at the sky through the kitchen window. The split was not earthly, she knew that in her gut.

She flinched when she heard her neighbor's old cuckoo clock began to hoot and holler next door, marking the time as 1 in the afternoon. Her day was wasting, and she was staring up at the sky too much. Taking a deep breath, Melanie turned her energy towards her tiny bathroom and set to cleaning it, top to bottom, knowing that there wasn't a damn thing she could do about the split anyway.

By 5 in the afternoon, Melanie was feeling better about life. Her clothes were hung on the drying line that stretched from the lean-to down to the back fence of her little yard, her bathroom and kitchen were scrubbed clean, the floors and surfaces were dusted, tidied, and wiped clean throughout the trailer, and she had just stripped her bed to wash her sheets and pillowcases.

Stuffing the armload of fabric into the machine, she reflected on the split, and wondered if she was making a big deal over nothing. She wasn't the brightest student in the science arena, and she had to wonder if perhaps somewhere in the world, there were scientists working on building whatever the split was. _Maybe you're witnessing a huge breakthrough_ , she thought, _maybe this is history happening, and here you're pissed about the table._

Melanie trailed her fingers affectionately along the top of the table as she walked by it on her way indoors. It was a good table. Cheap, effective, sturdy - it held up to meals, parties, tools, Eli's giant feet when he used to kick back after work and even her own butt, whenever she sat on the table top. _Best 5 bucks I ever spent._

Back inside, she set the oven to preheat, and then pulled a generic TV dinner out of her tiny freezer. She'd picked it up the night before, with a second one: two-for-one special at Marge's. Pulling the tray from the box, she stabbed at the plastic with a fork and put the tray on a little baking sheet, before shoving the whole thing in the oven. Once the timer was set, Melanie popped another beer and tossed herself down on the couch side of the dinette, flicking the TV on as she did.

When the creeping, crawling, hair-lifting feeling came back a few minutes later, she went rigid. "No," her denial was spoken quietly, and then more loudly, "NO." Spilling her beer, Melanie clambered to her feet, slamming the bottle onto the dinette table and striding for the trailer-door. She was too late, not that she could've done much any way. The table almost exploded with the impact of the box that came through the split this time. The table legs snapped and flew out from beneath the table top, which itself cracked into several pieces, shattering from the middle outwards.

The box that came through was as large as a bedside table, it appeared to be made of a solid, sturdy wood, and even it sustained some damage from the fall. Melanie stood open-mouthed and panting in the trailer doorway, staring at the ruin of her table and the mess in her backyard.

She heard her neighbour yelling at her from inside his trailer, drunkenly complaining about the noise, but she ignored it as she slowly stepped down from the trailer steps. Her gaze locked on the split in the sky, slightly less visible now since the sky itself was slowly moving towards dusk. She couldn't be certain, but she thought that she saw something _in_ the split, a flicker of light and movement, and then the split flattened to a line and disappeared again.

She knelt at the edge of the ruined table, knowing that the gifts from the split were getting larger, and therefore more dangerous, but found herself helplessly fixated on her destroyed possession and the large box on top of it. _What if the next thing is large enough to hit the trailer?_ She worried, reaching out and slowly gathering up table chunks, making a little pile in front of herself. Eventually, she climbed to her feet, grabbed a broom and used it to gather up all the bits of table, her vigorous sweeping bringing up puffs of dusty dirt with it. A few minutes later, and all the table bits were crammed into her large trash can, which she dragged back to the end of her tiny driveway.

The box was next, but she wasn't sure what to do with it, it was too big to bring inside the trailer; it would take all the available floor space. Instead, she grabbed her trusty butter knife again and began to dig at the box, around the damaged spots. Crouched next to the box, feeling an ache beginning to travel up her thighs from staying in the one position for so long, she let out a sigh of relief when the side of the box she'd been prying at finally cracked open.

The inside of the box was full of letters, dried flowers, and other random trinkets. The smell of perfume that came from the box, now that it was open, was rich and heady. "What the fuck?" She asked the empty air, lifting up a long lock of buttery blonde hair tied in a frilly, lace-edged pink ribbon, "Ew." She dropped the hair and grabbed a letter, feeling disappointed when she opened it and realized it must have been written in a far different language than her own – it was just a muck of gibberish; even the letters weren't a familiar alphabet.

Melanie let herself tip back slightly, so that she could sit on the dusty ground next to the box, and began to open the letters, one after another, the same strange language in each one, but, she noticed after the fifth or sixth letter, that they weren't all written in the same hand. She began grouping the letters according to the handwriting in them, and once she had sorted all the piles, she realized there were 14 different kinds of hand-writing that she could see.

She couldn't understand the language, but she knew what these letters were, nonetheless: love letters. Judging by the curling, swooping, elegant script, not to mention the hearts and flowers some of the writers had drawn into the margins of their letters, these were all written by women. Surrounded by the tidy piles of letters she had sorted, she was better able to see what else lay within the box. There were other tied off locks of hair besides the blonde one; red, mahogany, rich yellow, icy pale blondes, and black hair like her own, dark as the night.

It struck her as horribly old-fashioned, and really a little bit gross. She couldn't recall a time when she was ever so madly in love with someone that she wanted to give them some of her hair. _Stalker much?_ Melanie imagined the look on Eli's face if she'd given him a hank of her hair, tied with some creepy ribbon. _He would have laughed and then asked if something was wrong with me._ She smirked a little and then reached for some of the dried flowers, their texture feeling strange in her fingers, dusty and crinkling.

 _I've never seen flowers like this before,_ she thought to herself, in mild confusion. True, she didn't exactly live in a climate that encouraged an extensive flower garden, but these seemed like something straight out of a sci-fi flick. They were flowery enough for her to recognize that they were indeed flowers, it was just that, like the shoe-thing, they appeared to be so much _more_ than a regular flower should be – busier, more colourful, more petals and parts.

 _Well, I can't leave this shit out here,_ she thought to herself, climbing to her feet and pushing the dried flowers to the ground, _I need to hide this stuff._ She imagined Tala, or, god forbid, Lulee, coming over for a chat and seeing this cracked open box, covered in weird gold loops and swirls, filled with the obvious trophies of some man's ( _or woman's)_ many conquered hearts. _Oh my god she'd never leave._ Melanie pictured Lulee's eager, hungry expression and the ensuing onslaught of questions when the woman assumed this was all either by, or for, Melanie herself.

 _No, I need to hide it._ She got on her hands and knees next to the trailer and reached underneath to the pile of flattened cardboard boxes wrapped in a tarp, which she kept there from when she'd moved in. It only took her a moment to fold a box together and she proceeded to load it up quickly, thankful for the falling darkness of night, to hide her actions from her neighbors on either side. The last items she put in the box were several small lockets, and she paused a moment in her flurry of evidence-hiding, to click open each locket and look at the images within.

She'd guessed right, every little painted miniature portrait within was of a different woman. Sighing, Melanie dumped the handful of lockets into the box and got to her feet, brushing the dusty dirt off her backside as she again peered up at the sky, which was now dark. "Please stop sending your trash," she murmured to the stars.


	2. Chapter 2

***** Putting up the second chapter right quick, guys! Tell me what you think! *****

A few hours after the box's messy arrival and Melanie was laying completely stretched out in bed, half asleep, three empty beer bottles cluttering her small bedside shelf. The TV was droning on and on, but Melanie wasn't watching it anymore. In the dreamy, thoughtful stage between awake and sleeping, she was thinking about the split. She was distantly grateful that it hadn't given any other, larger, gifts from the sky, but mostly she was fixated on the flash she had seen within the split, the movement. _Was it a person?_ After obsessing over the brief mental image for hours now, she felt pretty certain that the movement she'd spied was that of a person, a long ways off in the distance behind the split, turning and walking away.

 _If someone's on the other side, that means they are throwing shit through the split on purpose._ And then another thought: _Can they see me?_ Melanie sat up, putting a hand to the wall to steady herself a little when all the blood rushed out of her head from the sudden movement. _Maybe I could get them to stop before they toss a frigging Buick through._ She disentangled her feet from the clean set of sheets she'd put on the bed, while her other set dried on the line outside, and turned in bed, dropping her feet to the floor. After a hot day, the trailer was still clinging on to the leftover warmth left within, despite the fact that it was much cooler outside, which was good, because she didn't really want to dig any pants out to put on top of her PJ shorts.

Two of her empty beer bottles sat on the little kitchen counter, top-down, drying out from where she left them after rinsing their insides clean. She'd intended to add them to her bottle-stash that sat beneath her trailer in a grimy plastic bin, destined to be brought to the depot for the return-it money. She snatched up one of the bottles on her way to the dinette, along with a pen and the pad of paper that she received from her realtor back when she'd moved in.

Grimly, she pushed her hair off her face and bent to the paper, pen gripped tightly, and began to write:

 _Dear Person Who Keeps Tossing Things into my Backyard,_

 _Stop. Please stop throwing things into the split – you're destroying my yard and I don't want your garbage. I saved your box of letters, your shoe, and your coins – if you want them back then you'll have to figure out a way to get them, because I can't pass them back._

 _Thanks for your cooperation._

 _M. F._

She was fully aware that _if_ the letter made it through the split, and _if_ anyone actually found it, that they would in all likelihood not be able to read her language, since she couldn't even begin to understand theirs, but she hoped that they might at least realize there was a living person on the other end of the split, and stop tossing stuff through.

Melanie re-read her letter, nodded in satisfaction at the wording, and then rolled the page up, stuffing it inside the empty beer bottle. She experimentally tipped the bottle upside down and found that the letter stayed safely inside, though she was concerned about something getting inside the bottle and ruining her letter. Melanie looked around her small space, her eyes landing on the cupboard above the stove. She slid out of the dinette seat and stepped over towards the stove, reaching up to open the cupboard and pull out the two, tall, mismatched candles inside. One candle she immediately saw was too wide for the bottle neck and she stuffed it back into the cupboard without looking.

The other was only slightly too big and Melanie grit her teeth as she began to cram the candle in, little chunks and shavings of wax peeling and breaking off as she did, littering the top of her dinette table. When it was solidly jamming up the bottle neck, Melanie snapped off the excess candle, set the bottle down, stepped into her tiny bedroom and grabbed her long cardigan with the hood on it, and jammed her bare feet into her faux-sheepskin boots. Snatching up the bottle again, and the knitted throw blanket laying on the couch side of the dinette, Melanie stepped outside.

The air was chilly, standing there at the bottom of the steps in the dark of the night. She was glad she'd put on the cardigan, and set her handful down on one of the table-less green plastic chairs, so she could pull the hood up. Melanie pulled the chair back, almost flush against the side of the trailer, next to the stairs, and made herself comfortable: bottle sitting on the steps next to her, throw blanket wrapped around her completely, covering herself up from neck to ankle, slouched down in the green plastic chair – waiting.

It had been a few hours since the split last appeared and she figured that if it was going to continue and reappear, it would do so very shortly. The side of the trailer was still warm from the heat that had beat down relentlessly upon it all day, and she could feel some of that heat seeping up her back, which was nice. Other than that, it was very peaceful. _Well, as peaceful as it gets around here_. She could hear her elderly neighbors in the trailer to the right of hers talking in loud, shouty voices; they were going deaf. She could hear a very loud action-movie playing on the TV in the trailer to the left of hers, the guy that lived there always watched his set loud and late into the night, but he was kind of scary, so she had never said anything.

Beyond her immediate neighbors was the sound of trucks on the highway, a couple of streets over. Lulee was singing in her trailer across the small, dirt road that separated the trailers on Melanie's side of the 'street' from the trailers on Tala and Lulee's side. There were only 15 trailers in all in this park, a fact that had drawn Melanie to it in the first place years ago. It was on the very edge of a very small, very neglected little town, and beyond her back yard fence was nothing but dirt, rocks, rough grass patches, and scrub as far as the eye could see – so that was a bonus as well.

Melanie tipped her head back against the back of her green plastic chair, lifting her face to the dark, starry sky, and closed her eyes as a cool breeze came up, ruffling at the sides of her hood. The split would come back, she was certain it would, and this time, _she_ was going to dish something right back to the person on the other end.

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She didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until she jerked herself awake. It was still dark out, so she knew she'd only been asleep for a couple of hours. Melanie sat up, pushing her hood back off her head, and looked around, trying to figure out what had woken her up. Her neighbors were silent, their trailers dark; everyone was asleep. Then she felt it, the weird tickling and lifting sensation of the little hairs on her arms and back of her neck. The split was coming.

Melanie climbed to her feet, pushing the throw blanket back onto the chair, then grabbing up the message in the beer bottle. She eyed the sky and after a long few seconds, the split appeared, first as a glowing line, then it grew, spreading open and tearing the fabric of the sky. She knew immediately that wherever the other side of the split was, it was daytime there now; it explained why the split was so dark before – it had been night in Split Land.

She got as close as she dared to the split's landing site, where her table had once stood, and cocked her arm back. She knew she could make the distance required for the throw, all the little league and softball she'd played in as a kid and a teenager told her that. It was the aim required that worried her. Biting her lips together, Melanie closed her eyes, said a little prayer, and threw the bottle towards the split with as much force as she possibly could. Her entire body sagged in almost overwhelming relief when the bottle made it through the split and didn't fall out again.

She had half expected it to smash against the surface of the split, like it was some kind of one-way street. There was a noise from _within_ the split, she could swear it, something that sounded like a cry of surprise, and then she had only mere seconds to dive out of the way as something metallic came rushing from the split. Landing on her hands and knees, she scuttled across the dirt towards the shelter of the lean-to as the metallic-whatever-it-was, collided with the earth with a large, heavy, _clang_.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," she repeated in a breathy whisper to herself, turning around to view her yard and the sky above it. This time there was no denying the yell that came from the split. " _Damn it!"_ A decidedly male and decidedly frustrated voice came out from the split, before the edges of the split wavered and then the whole thing flattened again. Her breathing was heavy and her heart was thundering, as she sat crouched on the little concrete pad that served as the laundry lean-to's floor.

She now knew that there was definitely a person on the other end of the split, and part of her faintly registered that the person had yelled out words in her language (though the accent on those words leaned far closer to British than American, in her opinion), but she was mostly just a little shell shocked. Her bottle had worked. She'd thrown it through and it had apparently startled the person on the other end, enough so that they had dropped whatever the partially rounded metal thing was that was sitting where her green table had used to sit.

Melanie stayed huddled up between the washer and the lean-to wall for a few minutes longer, giving herself the chance to catch her breath, let her heart slow back to normal, and to gather her racing thoughts a little bit. When she felt slightly more composed, she climbed to her feet and cautiously made her way over to the split's landing pad. She stood gazing down at the metal thing, trying to figure out what the hell it was. She didn't want to touch it, at least not at first.

She stared and stared at it, as it lay in the dusty earth at her feet, taking in the rounded back of the metal object, the open front and bottom revealing it was hollow inside, and the two large protrusions extending up and out from the open front portion. _It's a freaking helmet_ , she suddenly realized, bending to pick it up as soon as she'd identified it. It was heavy, but not overly weighty, clearly a real helmet, designed to be sturdy and protective for its owner's head. Once she held it in her hands, she began to back away from the split, pausing only to grab the throw blanket that still sat on the green plastic chair.

Melanie went back inside her trailer, sat the helmet on the end of her bed and then climbed into bed after tossing her cardigan on the floor and removing her boots. She pulled her knees up to her chest, staring at the helmet, wondering _where_ exactly the other side of the split was. Where could you possibly need to wear some kind of suit of armor-type helmet? She stared at the deep gold of the helmet, the green elements to it, and thought it was certainly important looking. If she remembered any medieval movies she watched, only the big-time knights had really fancy suits of armour, with decorations and embellishments, the lowly foot-soldier type typically had plain armor, or none at all.

The elaborate horns on this helmet which curved up and back, away from the face, the green and gold color to it, the details in the metal, even the intricate, exact swooping shape of this helmet all looked special-crafted, specially-made: someone important owned this helmet. _Ok, so some big shot over in Split Land found the split, decided to start throwing his crap in it for some reason, and was holding his helmet while he stood near the split this time, only to get freaked right out when my bottle came sailing through the split, and then he accidentally dropped his helmet?_

She figured that she had the sequence of events pretty accurate, however, what she couldn't explain was _why. Why_ was someone tossing stuff through the split? Melanie pushed the helmet to the far back corner of her bed, where the mattress was built right into the wall, and stretched out under her blankets. Snuggling against her pillow she reached a hand out without looking and grasped the cord on her little bedside lamp, yanking it and turning the lamp off. She lay wide-eyed in the dark, trying to puzzle out why on earth anyone would want to throw things, random things, through a split in the world.

Melanie yawned and turned over, pulling her blanket up to her chin. _I would never toss random stuff away like that, I'd be too worried I'd hurt someone._ As she drifted off to sleep she realized that it was quite likely that the person on the other end of the split had no idea that there was someone potentially at risk of being squished, and they were simply tossing things through the split to see what would happen to the items; would they bounce back? Come back through the rift destroyed and mangled? The thought she fell asleep on was: the only reason a person would test out the split with inanimate objects that way was if they were planning to toss something infinitely more precious through, like themselves.

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A loud, electronic bleating tore Melanie from sleep the next morning and she cracked her eyes open to glare at her alarm clock. The early morning sun beaming dully through the light curtains on her little bedside window, was already warm and Melanie irritably kicked her sheets off of herself and swatted at the alarm clock with her free hand.

"Alright, alright," she croaked, finally managing to turn the damn thing off. She sat up in bed and yawned, realizing that she definitely had not given herself enough time to sleep. _That's what you get for staying up all night playing catch with Mr. Helmet,_ she told herself, chuckling a little as she made her way into the washroom. She blindly moved through her simple morning routine: shower, brushing her teeth, dragging a brush through the wet riot of her wavy hair, and finally putting on what she called her 'work uniform', her least worn pair of jeans, a grey tank top and the blue apron that everyone at Marge's wore on shift.

Melanie shovelled back a quick bowl of cereal before grabbing her keys and stuffing her feet into her sneakers. The front steps of her trailer squeaked as she bounced down them, and the door let out its familiar squeal when she shut it and the screen door, locking them closed. Crunching across her dirt and gravel driveway, Melanie glanced across the street, smiling when she saw Tala emerging quietly from the trailer she shared with Lulee, her sister.

"Good morning," Tala said cheerily, in her familiar sleepy voice, "How was your night?" Melanie opened her mouth to respond, but paused, not sure how to reply. Tala fell into step beside her as they walked out of their little trailer park, quiet homes all around them since most of their neighbours were still asleep.

"It was alright," Melanie finally responded, trying to keep her voice from sounding weird, "Mostly just stayed in."

"Did Eli come by?" Tala asked, her tone turning slightly mischievous. Melanie glanced over at her friend, making a face; Tala and Lulee loved to bug her about her and Eli's notoriously on and off relationship. Currently it was off, and everyone seemed to think it was going to be on again sometime soon. Though she would never admit it, Melanie was beginning to think it would be too.

"No he did not," Melanie answered crisply, "I have no idea what Eli was doing last night; we're not together." Tala shrugged and said nothing, seeming to sense that Melanie didn't really want to be ribbed about her ex-boyfriend today. Tala was quiet afterwards, providing a comfortable, companionable silence on their walk to work, something Melanie knew Lulee wouldn't have been capable of doing; Lulee would have pried and pressed for information. When they reached the little parking lot for Marge's, Tala broke off, heading across the lot to the diner she worked at.

"Wanna get together for a beer tonight?" Tala asked before she departed. Melanie waved and smiled, "Sounds good, talk to you later!" She was fully determined to do something more normal than watch the sky for the split tonight, and heading over to her neighbours place for some beer around their little fire pit sounded wonderful. Melanie unlocked the front door of the little grocery store, Marge's Mart, where she worked. Although calling it a grocery store was a brave term – it was more like a catch all food store, which sold little bits and pieces of food and drink, some clothing items, booze, lotto tickets, and also provided a miniature version of a laundromat (Marge had two washers and two dryers near the back of the store that she charged $0.25 per use on).

Throughout the process of turning the lights and air conditioning on, sweeping the floor and dusting some of the surfaces, Melanie felt herself becoming distanced from the weird scenario with the split. As the morning progressed and people began to come and go, chatting with her and each other, a growing part of her began to wonder if perhaps she'd imagined the entire thing. _Maybe I was actually sleeping all day long and dreamed it, or maybe I hallucinated it all because of too much sun on my head._

The afternoon girl called in sick for her shift, as she sometimes did, leaving Melanie to work that shift in addition to her own. It was nearly dinner before she began the short walk back home, and her feet ached the whole way; Marge's might be a small place, but you were on your feet all day long if you worked there since there was usually only one person on shift at a time.

At home, she took a quick, cool shower, changed into her lighter cotton shorts, re-applied some deodorant, and picked up her phone to give Tala a quick call. Her friend answered on the second ring.

"Hey Tal, it's me," Melanie greeted Tala's sleepy "Hello?"

"Oh, Mel, yeah, that's right, you coming by still?" Tala murmured, sounding like her face was half buried in a pillow.

Melanie glanced at the clock on the stove and shook her head before answering out loud. "I'm gonna do dinner, maybe finish up my laundry, then head over once it's dark out? Alright with you?" Melanie responded easily, knowing Tala wouldn't care either way.

"Sure, yeah, ok, see you," Tala answered in her perpetually sleepy voice, before hanging up. Tala was pretty short on phone etiquette, which bugged some people, though Melanie found it a blessing because she was terrible with social niceties herself.

True to her word, Melanie put her TV dinner in the oven as soon as she got off the phone. Then she turned to glare at the helmet sitting on her dinette. She had managed to ignore it for the past few minutes, but knew that her day of freedom at work was over; she was going to end up fixated on the helmet, its owner, and the split, all night.

 ***** Next chapter, something a lot bigger than a helmet comes on down *****


	3. Chapter 3

***** Aw hell, here's #3, just to get the introductions out of the way... Enjoy guys! *****

The golden, horned helmet seemed to mock her with the mystery of its presence. It provided no answers, just a bunch of questions, and worries. After staring at it mistrustfully for several very long minutes, Melanie pursed her lips and decided to force herself to ignore the helmet some more; there was literally nothing she could do about it right now. She went outside to gather her laundry off the line, unable to help herself from glancing warily up into the darkening sky, which was still blessedly split-free.

She gathered up her sheets and bedding hanging on the line, deciding to start with the bigger laundry items first. Halfway from the drying line to her door, she felt the bizarre frisson to the air again, her stomach flipping over sickeningly. In a daze, fear and anxiety welling up in her throat, Melanie turned to face the split, her arms full of bedding.

The split appeared as it always did, but this time, something was different. As soon as the split opened, there was a strange rushing sensation to the air, and a breeze came billowing out of the split, ruffling her hair, the laundry still on the line, and the bedding in her arms.

When he came plunging down through the split, it wasn't as big of a surprise as she thought it should have been. Part of her had expected this, expected that Mr. Helmet would come for his lost headgear. He fell fast and heavy, landing with a hefty thud, a whoosh of dirt rippling out from where he landed. He came through with a kind of grace though, landing purposefully and neatly in a half crouch, a staff in one hand, dark clothing snapping out around him and fluttering to land with him on the dry earth in her yard.

When he turned his face up, taking in his surroundings, Melanie felt her jaw twitch. _He's human,_ she thought wildly, a weird kind of relief flooding her veins, pleased that he wasn't a monster or terrifying alien. His skin looked very pale in the dusky evening light, his dark hair adding to the ivory tone.

When his gaze landed on her, she couldn't do anything but blink stupidly at him, knowing her eyes were huge and goggling, her mouth hanging open. He climbed immediately to his feet when saw her, his stance wary and rigid. Melanie closed her mouth and swallowed thickly, trying to bring moisture to her mouth so she could talk. She ended up just staring at him some more.

"Is this Midgard?" He asked her, his tone serious, but somehow hopeful as well. She didn't understand. Her mind raced as she ran the term 'Midgard' through her temporarily stunned mental vocabulary and came up blank. Instead of saying no or shaking her head though, some part of her decided that she should just stare at him a little more, so she did.

He inclined his head expectantly towards her, one dark eyebrow raising slightly. "Can you understand me?" He asked, his tone a little slower, his words a little more deliberate. She nodded twice, her eyes not leaving his face. He made a face, clearly irritated with her and waved a hand in her direction.

"So, is it?" He asked, impatience seeping into his words. Melanie blinked rapidly several times in a row, and then licked her lips, before her eyes darted up to the sky, checking for the split. It was gone. His clothing rustled slightly when he took a step towards her, and that seemed to break through the stunned fog of her thoughts. She took several quick, startled steps backwards, away from him, until her backside connected with the washing machine with a hearty _clang_ , and he stopped moving.

"What's Midgard?" She managed to get out, her voice rasping dryly. He took a breath and looked up at the sky for a moment, as if searching for a word. "What do you people call it?" He spoke, obviously to himself, "Ah, yes, Earth – this _is_ Earth, correct?" Melanie nodded at that, a little ripple of fear tingling down her spine, and then onwards, all the way to her toes. He simply looked amused and turned away, carefully taking in his surroundings with interest.

"Remarkable," he murmured to himself, "Too easy." He smirked and shook his head and then suddenly looked towards her intently, his brow drawing together. "You're the one," he said clearly.

"What?" She replied, feeling distantly embarrassed that her voice sounded stupid and squeaky. He took 3 quick steps closer to her, and she leaned back against the washer, as if she could press through it, her arms still full of her clean sheets and blanket. "Stop," she blurted out, her tone finally sounding slightly surer of itself. He paused, though his look clearly said he didn't need to and was only humouring her.

He tilted his head to the side and regarded her calmly. "You threw the bottle at me," he replied, his tone indicating that had been an exceptionally wayward thing to do. "I didn't throw it at you," she shot back almost immediately, defensively.

He shook his head slightly at her hasty reply. "Yes, you did," he answered her, his tone growing firmer, "You threw it at me and made me drop my helmet, which I'd like back now, by the way." Melanie pressed her lips together in frustration, all of the shock from his appearance suddenly draining from her because of his accusations. She didn't like his accusatory tone, nor did she like the implication that he was somehow the victim in all of this.

In a huff, she turned and dumped her laundry on top of the washer and then turned back to him, before taking a step towards him, her hands planting themselves on her hips. "Excuse me?" She snapped, her temper rising up when she thought about her now-destroyed, much-loved, green patio table, " _You_ have been tossing shit at me through the split for almost two days!"

Her hands dropped from her hips and she felt one hand ball into a fist while the other lifted up to point angrily at him. "I was minding my own business when you began to drop _garbage_ in my yard, and you destroyed my property!" Her cry was angry, and she knew she was glaring at him now. For his part he stood still and watched her with mild, detached, interest.

"I _had_ to throw that bottle, to get you to stop, before you tossed something big enough to crush my home through the split! So excuse _me_ if I'm not rushing to apologize to _you_ ," she finished, her heart thundering in her chest, and in her ears. One of his dark eyebrows flickered upwards briefly and he smirked at her again.

"A thousand apologies," he replied easily, amusement and condescension lacing his words. Melanie crossed her arms over her chest at the tone and wished she could just walk by him and make him go away. _You are sooo out of your depth here kid,_ she warned herself.

"It's a portal," he spoke lightly, breaking her train of thought. Melanie's eyes darted up to meet his own. "What?" She asked, her tone slightly bewildered. He nodded his head, indicating the sky with his chin.

"You called it a split; it's not, it's a portal between my world and your own," he explained. He was watching her carefully, and the intensity of his gaze didn't make his explanation any easier to hear. She looked away, wanting to break the eye contact, and shrugged.

"Ok, portal, whatever," she conceded. Things were silent for a moment before he cleared his throat and she turned her gaze to him again. "My helmet?" He queried, both eyebrows shooting up a little. She nodded, swallowing reflexively, and started to side step away from him, not wanting to turn her back on him. He chuckled a little bit.

"I've no ill-intentions for you, little Midgardian, just go get the helmet, please," his assurance was condescending and that got her back up a little bit, but she didn't stop to flaunt any ego this time, instead scurrying for the steps to her trailer and stumbling inside as quickly as possible. She pulled the door shut behind her and felt herself sag in momentary relief at being away from him. The helmet sat imposing and out-of-place on her dinette as it had before. Reaching for it, Melanie paused when she realized her trailer smelled like burning.

"Dinner! Shit!" She cried loudly and angrily, wrenching open her little oven and using an oven mitt to extract the tray holding her burnt-to-a-crisp TV dinner, dumping the whole thing into the sink in frustration.

She was about to close the oven door when she heard the door to her trailer yank open behind her, the whole thing lurching slightly when the strange split-visitor launched himself inside… and directly into her, which knocked her towards the oven, her bare knee landing directly and completely against the inside of the hot, open, oven door.

"God _dammit!_ " She yelled, the pain instant, blinding, and nearly overwhelming. Melanie tipped sideways, away from the oven door and fell to her side on the floor, listening as the movement caused everything in her cupboards to ring and tinkle.

"What is going on in here?" He spoke loudly, urgently, almost angrily. Melanie clutched at her knee, hissed at the pain of her own touch, and released her knee almost instantly, and then began to drag herself backwards, away from him and the oven door. She reached the edge of her bed and used it to haul herself to her feet, wincing and gasping sharply when her knee stretched and bent beneath the rather large, angry burn on it.

"Just… just... take your helmet and go!" She yelled at him, the pain of the burn pushing useless tears into her voice and make her eyes water. She waved a hand at the dinette where the helmet sat, and he looked over to it, before gesturing at her.

"You're injured," he remarked, his voice matter of fact.

"No shit, Sherlock, you pushed me into an oven! Please, just take the stupid helmet and go!" She cried, managing to leverage her butt onto the edge of her bed, finally looking down at the burn. It was big, raw, and horrifyingly misshapen already.

The familiar creak of her oven door being closed surprised her and she looked up to see the split-man closing it, before he twisted slightly and removed his outer wear, which appeared to be a heavy, green cape, worn over elegant, yet somehow simple clothing beneath. Clothing that looked like it belonged in a rich, historical era, not in New Mexico, in her trailer which smelled of burnt Salisbury steak. He lay the garment over the back of the dinette and rested his staff against the wall behind the door.

He strode towards her, which really only meant walking a couple steps, and then dropped to a graceful crouch before her, pushing her hands away from the burn impatiently.

"Is there no light in this wretched hovel at all?" He muttered to himself, grasping the bottom of her knee in one large, cool hand, pulling it closer to his view. Melanie reached towards the wall, to flick on the bedroom ceiling light, all while trying to pull her knee away from him. She was so uncomfortable with his closeness that she felt panic growing inside her alongside the pain flaming out from her knee.

"Please let go," she spoke automatically, pulling on the grasp he had, and then sucking in a pained gasp when her own movement made the hurting even worse. He shot her an exasperated look.

"I'm not going to harm you, you seem quite capable of that all on your own, so do sit still," he ordered her. She wanted to fight, her entire life's stranger-danger training rushing to the forefront of her burn-addled mind, but her knee felt like the sun was on fire inside of it and was trying to burn through the damaged skin there.

His other hand came to rest on top of the burn, and she tensed in expectation of horrific pain, but instead there was only a cooling sensation. The cooling feeling was so incredible, and such an instant contrast to the burn, that it felt like she was deflating in relief, hissing out a long, slow breath as her body relaxed with the absence of the pain.

"Oh thank god," she murmured, "What are you doing?" He looked up from his intense scrutiny of her knee, which was now held between his hands.

"I have a little talent for healing, but especially burns," he explained briefly, before lifting his top hand slightly, to peer beneath it, "Now, sit still."

She did as he said and watched in fascination as a very faint glow seemed to emanate from beneath his hand. It felt like he was blasting the burn with an arctic winter. The feeling was strange, but so wonderful compared to the bone deep pain of the burn, she couldn't complain. A dim part of her mind was fully aware that what was happening right now was not first aid, at least not any she'd ever seen. It was definitely other-worldly, and over the borderline straight into magical.

 _Really, though, after the split, are you shocked?_ And she wasn't; she supposed it was a little disconcerting that this man who had fallen from the sky was apparently able to heal people with just his really cold hands, but she'd been watching the sky split open for well over a day by now, as random objects fell from the heavens, so she forced herself to be ok with this newest turn of events now.

"There," he spoke quietly, lifting his hands from her skin. The absence of the cold touch left her feeling oddly-bereft for a moment, before she realized that her skin was entirely healed beneath. Melanie swiftly pulled her knee away from him, clutching it to her chest so she could stare at the unmarred skin. "Oh my god," she marvelled, "It's not even scarred!" Her skin was utterly smooth and whole, even the scar from the bad bicycle accident she'd had as a child was gone.

Her gaze darted to him, where he stayed crouched at her feet next to the bed. He looked smug and pleased and she couldn't help smile a little at the expression. "Thank you," she replied, "That hurt more than you can imagine, so thank you."

He nodded and got to his feet. "You are welcome, it's the least I could do after destroying your possessions, I suppose," his reply sounded haughty, but she could sense that he definitely felt rather proud of himself, she guessed he didn't get the chance to heal people often.

"Yeah, I guess we're even," she answered, grunting a little as she slid to the end of the bed, getting to her feet there. Her trailer was small, the bedroom area positively miniscule, and when she stood next to him in the cramped space, she became very aware of how large he was. He was very tall, taller than Eli even, though not as beefy as Eli was. This man was a lot like a jungle predator, long and lean, with a lithe musculature that could be called graceful. _Bottom line though, just plain tall_. She wasn't a very tall woman herself, so his closeness made her nervous again, and she bumbled back a step.

"Ok so," she began, stepping backwards from him some more, suddenly very aware that she was wearing her ridiculous cotton PJ shorts, not something she wore anywhere except alone around her own house, and a tank top, and that was it. He seemed aware that she was uncomfortable again, as she backed away from him, almost to the other side of the trailer, because he was smiling at her; a mischievous grin, a mostly amused grin.

"Thanks for the burn help," she managed lamely, waving a hand at the helmet, "You can go now." He walked towards her, reaching for the helmet and opening his mouth to respond, when there was knocking at her door. "Mel?" She heard Lulee call from outside.

" _No_ ," Melanie groaned in a low, throaty tone; Lulee was literally the last person in the known universe that she needed to have standing outside her door right now. Her eyes darted over to the split-man and he gave her a mildly puzzled, yet still amused look, his eyebrows raising again.

"Shit," Melanie said quietly, taking several steps towards him, brushing past him anxiously, her previous concerns regarding his presence now replaced with new worries – if news of this visitor got out, it would be awful for her: unwanted attention, annoying questions, not to mention that Eli would likely think that she'd been messing around with an alien. _Oh my god, who cares about Eli right now – focus!_

"You need to hide, and for god's sake stay quiet, please!" She urgently hissed at her unwelcome split-visitor, waving in the general direction of the bedroom. His eyebrow flickered up again, and he smiled slightly, but nodded and stepped back towards the bedroom. He would be mostly out of view if she blocked the door properly.

Taking a deep breath, Melanie reached for the door and pulled it open, plastering a fake-welcoming smile on her face when she was greeted with Lulee's overly-made-up face on the other side. Melanie curved her body around in front of the door, closing it most of the way behind herself.

"Are you alright?" Lulee asked, one thin, plucked eyebrow lifting, "We heard a commotion!" Melanie nodded along with her friend's words, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Oh yeah, definitely everything is fine. I'm fine! I burnt dinner and it made me mad!" Melanie blundered through her response, halting in the wrong places, cursing her innate inability to lie properly. Lulee pursed her lips, letting her heavily outlined eyes roam slowly over Melanie's hair, down her face, over her warm-weather PJs and down to her bare feet.

"You sure that's all that's going on?" Lulee's voice was lilting playfully, and Melanie put a hand to her hair suddenly, feeling without seeing that it was a mussed up, floofy disaster from throwing herself to the ground after falling into the oven.

"I don't know what you mean," Melanie said innocently, deciding to flat out play dumb. _Lulee can smell fear, don't let her get a whiff._

Lulee smiled at her again, winking a little when she hinted, "Sounds like you finally moved on from old Eli for good!" Melanie winced, certain that she had to find a way to correct Lulee's assumptions _right now_ , or else Eli was going to be told that she was screwing around with other guys, of that Melanie had no doubt. _She works fast, you can't let her spread the word._

"Lu, there is no one here," Melanie deadpanned, waving a hand in the general direction of the front of the trailer, "Do you see a car out front? No one is here but me!"

Lulee tossed her head and smirked a little. "Why, yes there is!" Lulee exclaimed delighted, "That blue one, right there!" Melanie blinked stupidly and stepped down the stairs, shoving past Lulee immediately, making her way out of her yard and around front.

"That's impossible! Unless someone else is in my spot!" Melanie declared hotly. She rounded the house and saw nothing there, groaning at her own stupidity.

"Shhheeeeeiiiit," she groaned to herself, running back around to the other side of the trailer, to her door. "Lulee! Wait! I can explain!" She called, bouncing up the steps and into the trailer.

It was too late though, because Lulee was already inside.


	4. Chapter 4

***** Enjoy! *****

Lulee was standing over by the bathroom, the open door in her hand as she looked around, disappointment clear on her face. Melanie felt herself go tongue-tied as she herself looked around in mild confusion. _What the hell? Where'd he go?_

"Guess you really were all alone," Lulee pronounced with breathy nonchalance, "You really should quit talking to yourself so much, Mel, you're giving people the wrong idea! To think! If I hadn't of come in here, I would have been honour bound to mention to Eli that you were messing around on him!"

Melanie growled and rolled eyes, stepping back from her doorway, holding the door open with one hand and pointing at the door way with her other. "Out, Lu, out now," Melanie demanded irritably, "Not that it's any of your damn business, but Eli and I are not together right now, so I could have _seven_ men in here right now, and it's none of his business, _or yours."_

Lulee sauntered by her, unoffended by Melanie's ire as she always was. "Sure thing, sugar," she answered Melanie's vehemence dismissively, stepping outside onto the steps again and gesturing vaguely towards her trailer across the way, "You coming over for a beer tonight? Eli is coming too."

Melanie couldn't help the quick glance around her trailer, at how it was empty and helmetless. _I could, but…_ "I am just so damn tired, Lu – give my regrets to Tala, because I'll probably just stay in!" She exclaimed, before soundly closing the door on her nosy, infuriating neighbor's face.

She stepped towards the door, locking it, glad to be rid of Lulee, and secretly glad that the helmet guy had managed to sneak out and was out of her hair. She leaned her forehead against the plastic door and closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath. "Thank the lord," she muttered.

"Does this mean I'm invited to stay for the evening?" His voice came from behind her and Melanie screamed aloud in fear, whirling around, a hand flying up to her chest.

"Jesus-rollerskating-christ!" She cried, knowing she must be flushed tomato red and fear-sweating across her forehead, "How are you still _in_ _here?"_

He was sitting casually on the far side of her dinette, his helmet in front of himself, and he casually nodded towards the outside of her trailer, pointing with his chin, obviously indicating Lulee. "She did not seem to want to respect your boundaries," he replied evenly, "Nor was she intelligent enough to understand or appreciate our current situation; I thought it best that she did not know I was here."

Melanie stared at him blankly for a few moments, her thundering heart slowly returning to a more normal pace. "So you magicked yourself away?" She asked incredulously, knowing that her words were not quite right to describe what had happened, but was uncertain what _would_ work.

He shrugged. "More or less," he replied. Melanie swallowed and looked away. "That's a neat trick, mister," she muttered, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to figure out what to do now, how to get him out of her house and away without anyone seeing him. _Eli is right across the goddamn street! What if he wants to stop by?_

"You want me to leave," he stated, his tone calm, but mildly amused. Her eyes widened as she turned back to him.

"I didn't say that!" She replied quickly. His face remained even, although one eyebrow quirked up slightly. He didn't say anything, just remained casually seated at her dinette, one arm slung along the backrest of the bench seat. His long fingers tapped slowly and idly at the nubbly brown fabric there.

Melanie ran her fingers through her hair, and then stopped, yanking her arms down when she remembered that she wasn't wearing a bra. "So, yeah," she started, easing her way past the dinette, to the bedroom end of the trailer, "I just have to do something." She grabbed the accordion door that cut the tiny bedroom chunk off from the rest of the trailer when it was pulled out and closed, a door she rarely ever used, and yanked it out of the wall where it was normally folded.

The door made a series of scratching noises, scraping noises, and plastic-y squealing noises as she urged it open, each noise louder than the next, and the entire process going in awkward fits and starts. _This is not the exit I wanted to make,_ she thought to herself in chagrin.

He didn't turn around when he spoke lightly over his shoulder, "If your intent is to change your attire, you simply could have asked me not to look."

Melanie stopped, staring at the back of his head, and wishing with all her might she could just be grabbing her cardigan and going across the street, sitting with her friends, sitting with Eli. Instead she finally managed to hook the accordion door to its opposite wall. The bedroom felt beyond cramped, but she moved quickly, ripping off her tank top, and pulling on a bra, before pulling the tank back on. She crouched and pulled the pj shorts down, kicking them backwards onto her bed, pausing to marvel at the smooth uninjured skin on her knee once again.

Shaking her head briskly, partially wondering if she was actually on her death bed somehow, and this was all a fevered coma dream, like in the soaps, she grabbed herself underwear, a regular pair of shorts, and pulled them on. The last thing she grabbed, even though it was still stinking hot outside, was her trusty cardigan, laying it out on edge of the bed.

When she was done, she eased the accordion door back into its little niche in the wall, her eyes cautiously running over the figure of her guest. _Yeah, "guest"._ She walked past him and stood on the far end of her trailer, facing him, easing herself up to sit on the little counter edge that ran past the stove. His eyes ran over her quickly, as if assessing her clothing change briefly, before he turned his head to look back out the window.

Nothing was said for a few long moments. The tension was killing her. She scratched at the side of her face for a moment, wondering how to phrase what she wanted to ask him. "You are wondering why I have not yet left," he asked quietly, the strange formality still in his voice. She shrugged and looked down at where her fingers where coiled together idly in her lap.

"It has crossed my mind, yeah," she replied uneasily, "I mean, I'm sure this has all been just peachy for you, but you strike me as someone with better things to do than hide in my trailer." He smirked, turning his eyes back to hers.

"I certainly do have 'better things to do'," he told her, his gaze not moving from hers, "Unfortunately for us both, I'm stuck here until I'm able to get through the portal again."

"What?" She asked, startled by the statement, the word coming out a lot more sharply than she had intended. He dipped his head in minute acknowledgement.

"It's not a door that always swings both ways," he calmly explained, "That would defeat the purpose of such an obscure pass between our worlds even existing." She blinked stupidly at him, wondering if he actually thought she should or could understand that explanation.

"Is it on a timer?" She asked carefully, struggling to say something that made sense. One of his eyebrows came up as he dipped his head towards her.

"You could very easily say that," he answered her, "More specifically, even when the portal does open, it will not always be large enough to admit me." Melanie turned her head, leaning towards the window she was sitting against and pulling the curtain to the side briefly, peeking outside. This window faced the street and she could see Tala and Lulee's from here. Eli's motorcycle was sitting out front and she felt a wave of longing to be over there.

"The split has always been the same size on this end," she muttered, "Don't know how you could tell." He got up abruptly then, moving towards her quickly. Alarmed, Melanie dropped the curtain and turned to him as he approached, her hands gripping tightly at the edge of the counter she sat on.

"You're saying that even with my arrival, you could not tell the difference?" He asked, a trace of urgency in his voice. His brow had drawn down over his eyes, and the effect on the angular planes of his face was utterly terrifying. Melanie felt like her mouth had completely dried up, and her gaze darted away uneasily.

"I never could," she stammered, "It was always the same, the only change was the air, there was a lot of it blowing out of the split right before you fell through." He stood directly in front of her, any path to hop off the counter and move away blocked by him.

"To think I must rely on the retellings of a child," he murmured in disgust, turning away suddenly in frustration. He was silent, but still too close for her to hop down, and Melanie could feel her toes curling. He moved away then, sitting on the edge of the dinette.

"This will take some time," he spoke to himself, this she knew right away, but that didn't stop her from sliding off the counter and moving towards her door, unlocking it, and opening it. She tried to be casual, as she stepped outside, but she got no further. His cold, hard hand gripped her upper arm, preventing her from going anywhere, and she let out a little squawk of dismay.

He pulled her back inside, not roughly, but firmly, and released her arm when she stood before him. "Where are you going?" He asked her calmly. "Outside," she answered him immediately. He rolled his eyes.

"I believe that part was obvious," he told her sarcasm lacing his tone, "However, I'm more interested in where you intended to go."

"You need to leave," she said quietly, making brief eye contact with him and then letting her gaze skate away in discomfort. He chuckled.

"Believe me, little wretch, that is exactly what I wish to do," he told her, a slight laugh in his voice, "However it would seem that I did not think this through quite as well as one might hope." He was silent for a moment before he laughed a little at himself.

"What do you mean?" She asked, her worry mingled with a little curiosity. He lifted a dark eyebrow before looking back at her.

"I can't just leap through the portal whenever I please, it must be the correct size," he paused, pursing his lips for a moment, "At least it must be the correct size on the other side, in Asgard." She said nothing when he turned to look back out the window, allowing him to continue.

"However, it would seem that since the portal is always the same size here, that the same restriction does not exist, unfortunately that would also seem to indicate that it will be nearly impossible to tell when the portal is large enough on the other side to permit me the access required," his explanation was voiced drily, but she could sense real concern behind the words.

Melanie nodded, and asked the expected question: "What happens if you try to get through and the receiving end is too small? Will you bounce back?" His lips twitched as if he were trying to smile, but couldn't quite muster it.

"No," he said flatly, "I will be rejected from the other end and unable to return here, doomed to spend an eternity in a place of no space and time. Either that, or I'll be torn into a thousand bloody pieces."

Melanie was startled by such an admission; he looked morose as he explained such a dark possibility. She could hardly even imagine that such a thing could be true, and if it _was_ true…

"Why in the hell would you even risk _coming_ here?" She blurted out, unable to hold it back, her eyebrows pulling together in concern, "That's seems really stupid." He looked over at her, surprised at her outburst and also a little irritated she had called him stupid.

"You would question my motivations? _You?_ A meaningless splotch on the tapestry of my existence?" His response was insulted, and condescending. Condescension triggered her ire. Melanie planted her hands on her hips.

"A splotch? Give me a break buddy, _your_ existence is the meaningless one from my side of things. Get a little perspective before you go nose diving onto other people's planets!" She shot back at him in frustration, her own brow drawing down into a glare. He got to his feet suddenly, startling her, and she stumbled back a step, her behind connecting with the still-warm oven, which was thankfully closed.

"Do you have any idea who you're speaking to, you insolent little wretch? I could destroy you," he threatened her, waving a hand off to the side in displeasure, "All of you are entirely beneath me."

Swallowing hard and then wetting her lips, Melanie ventured out onwards once more, unable to stop herself, although her tone was a lot less angry this time. "You seem to dislike us 'Midgardians'," she hooked her fingers in the air around the word, "Seems strange that you were willing to jump through a dangerous space hole just to get here, don't you think?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she forced herself to hold eye contact this time. "This planet is merely a means to an end," he replied flatly, "The choice had naught to do with its measly inhabitants, and everything to do with forwarding my own ends."

"Then I'm sure you won't mind getting the hell out of my house, and going to deal with _your own ends_ somewhere else," Melanie spoke quietly and his face stilled. Narrowed eyes still firmly held her gaze and she felt her heart pattering along at a much more rapid pace as she tried to keep her backbone stiff. _Do not back down,_ _he wouldn't have helped your burn just to squish you like a bug now._

"The portal has clearly chosen this location, therefore, this location is where I will remain," he answered her smoothly, a lot of the anger leaving his face. She almost stamped her foot.

"You _can't_ stay here!" She hollered at him, surprising him, "This is _my_ house and I'm telling you to leave. Don't make me call the police." She crossed her arms in a huff, her hands each gripping the opposite elbow tightly.

"Your threats are meaningless," he said dismissively, turning away from her and settling onto the couch portion of her dinette, "Go about your business, little wretch, I will stay only as long as I absolutely must, and you may share the same space with me, or leave, _that_ choice, I leave to you."

She stared at him in surprise for a long moment, her mouth hanging open a little in disbelief at his audacity to ignore her demands. "I can't beli – you can't be serious, I…" Melanie couldn't find anything to say that didn't sound silly, so instead, she turned to her phone, picking it up from the cradle and rapidly dialing 911.

The line clicked several times, as the call connected way out in Santa Fe. "911, what is your emergency?" The bored sounding operator on the other end answered and Melanie opened her mouth to respond.

The unwanted Mr. Helmet hissed at her from his seat, "I will only make myself unseen if you call your guards in. They will find nothing here but you: a little wretched girl dressed in hardly more than her small clothes, ranting about a visitor who fell from the sky."

Melanie's hand gripped the phone, realizing instantly that he was right. _At least about the ranting; what the hell are small clothes?_

"Hello? Are you there, are you alright?" The operator asked, her tone changing, become slightly more interested in the call.

"Ah – uh, no I'm sorry," Melanie managed to stammer out, "My kid, damn kid, he was playing with the phone, I'm so embarrassed – sorry!"

"Miss, are you sure?" The operator sounded a lot more irritated now, and Melanie swallowed hard, knowing it was going to be difficult to sound nonchalant.

"I am, he is _so_ grounded! Sorry! Bye!" Melanie chirped stupidly, and then slammed the phone down. She stood at the phone, staring down at it, feeling her face and neck bloom red with humiliation and frustration.

"Smart girl," he muttered from the couch and Melanie whirled to face him, growing greatly pissed off. He had grabbed one of her paperbacks and was perusing the back cover.

"I didn't ask for this!" She said loudly, her voice tight with annoyance, "You can't just stay here and think that's ok! This is _my home!_ You barged into _my home!_ "

"And?" He answered shortly, disinterestedly, not looking up from the paperback that he had just flipped open, infuriating her.

"GET OUT," she said loudly, through teeth clenched so tightly that she worried she might chip a tooth. He looked back up at her from his seat finally and rolled his eyes, before sighing and climbing to his feet, tossing the book behind himself haphazardly.

"Please understand this," he spoke in a low voice, a voice bordering on threatening, stepping closer to her, looking down at her. A frisson of fear went up her spine, making her hair stand on end.

"You are restful on the eyes, and have amused me thus far, but do not make the error of thinking that I won't simply put an end to you, if you continue to make a nuisance of yourself," the volume of his words was soft, but she understood the message well enough.

"I am a patient man, but I am not a tolerant one, and I am very near the end of tolerating your ridiculous and shrill protests," he hissed at her now, and she found herself nodding. As soon as she did, he nodded himself and stepped back, the dark moment and dark look gone from his face.

He clapped his hands once, and said in mock-cheeriness, "Excellent, I am so glad we could agree on what is best for you, my little wretch. Now I suggest you run along with your insignificant, plebeian existence, and leave me to my thoughts."

She didn't want to, but she decided that if she didn't get some space, she was only likely to piss Mr. Helmet off further and was not interested in finding out what kind of damage his magic could inflict, as opposed to healing.

Muttering under her breath, Melanie stomped to her bedroom, grabbing her cardigan and stuffing her bare feet into her sheepskin boots. She paused at the fridge to grab the last full six-pack she had and then stomped towards the door. Wrenching it open, she paused on the threshold and glared back at him over her shoulder.

He looked up at her, eyebrows going up in feigned interest, waiting for her to speak. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, not sure what to say that wouldn't be construed as a nuisance. She finally snapped her mouth closed and took in a breath, settling on shooting him a very irritated look, before she slammed out the door and down her steps.

As she crunched through the gravel towards the front of her trailer, intent on Tala and Lulee's after all, she swore she could hear him laughing at her from back inside.


	5. Chapter 5

***** Enjoy! *****

"Baby, you shoulda worn some pants," Eli scolded her quietly, reaching a hand out to run his fingers down the bare side of her knee. His fingers were very warm, and Melanie was feeling chilled, summer nights dropped the temperature pretty quickly, and although she'd long since put her cardigan on, which covered her shorts-clad thighs up to the knee, she was still chilly. She'd pulled her knees up, hugging them to her chest in front of the fire pit they all sat around, cursing herself for not grabbing pants.

She slowly pulled her legs out of his reach, despite the warmth of his skin. "Eli, don't," she murmured, looking right at him, "And don't call me 'baby', you know we're not a couple." His good natured face frowned a little as he nodded, looking away.

"You sure?" He finally asked her, a little mischievous tilt to his lips and she had to laugh at him. "Pretty damn sure," she replied, before grabbing up her current can of beer and draining the last of it. The cool drink sent a shiver through her body, and she knew if she wanted to stay out here any longer (and she did want to stay out longer, she was only 4 cans into the six-pack), she would need to run across the lane to her place and snag some sweat pants.

Stretching, Melanie climbed to her feet and waved a lazy hand back at her place. "I'm gonna go grab some warmer pants, I'll be back in a couple minutes," she told her friends. Tala looked up from her cigarette and shrugged, and Lulee and her current guy didn't bother looking up from the make-out session they were in at the moment.

"Right," Melanie said, turning away, her gaze snagging on Eli's for a moment as he looked up at her hopefully. The fire was turning his rich brown hair into a strange flaming orange color, but he was still the same Eli, handsome, thick-built, and sweet. She pressed her lips together and looked away, knowing he was hoping she'd ask him to go with her, and knowing that if she opened her mouth to say anything to him, she might end up asking, the habit of being with him was so ingrained.

She shook off her 4-beer haze when she reached the gate to her yard, realizing then it was a good thing she hadn't encouraged Eli, because Mr. Helmet was still squatting in her trailer. _Can't believe I almost forgot,_ she mentally scolded herself, _Eli is taking up way too much real estate in my head still._ She sighed to herself as she closed the gate behind herself, crunching across her gravelled yard and up the bouncing steps. She pulled the door open and sure enough, there was Mr. Helmet, lounging across the couch, reading the paperback.

"The portal opened once while you were gone, but it wouldn't even accept a box of that horror you call 'cereal'," he told her absent-mindedly, not looking up from the book. Melanie was still standing in the open doorway and felt her hand tense up on the doorknob.

"Please tell me you aren't testing _my_ things out on the split!" She said angrily, "Haven't you ruined enough of my stuff?" He turned to look at her, and did a mild double take, his eyes darting down to her chin and back up again. She knew that sitting in front of the fire, and downing 4 beers in 1 hour, had left her flushed, and she hoped he wouldn't think she was embarrassed for any reason.

"What?" She finally snapped, still in the doorway, his examination making her uncomfortable. He shrugged and looked away, back at the book.

"Nothing," he said haughtily, "It seems the night air agrees with you." She had no idea what to make of that, but her eyes moved past him, to the kitchen counter, where one of her two cereal bowls sat, filled to the brim with Honey Nut Cheerios.

"So, where's the box now?" She asked, and he didn't move except to point with one finger towards her back yard. Melanie hit the switch on her outside light and the yard was faintly illuminated, showing bits and pieces of the cereal box and the cereal, exploded all over her yard.

Growling under her breath, "Great, that's going to be a lot of fun to clean up," Melanie took another step inside, starting to pull the door closed behind her, when she heard the familiar creek of her gate and froze. Eli walked into the yard, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Hey," he said simply, looking a little startled when she immediately flicked the outside light off. _There is no way I'll be able to come up with a good excuse for why that cereal box is exploded all over my yard._ "Eli!" She greeted him, her voice sounding startled and off, "Uh, why are you here?"

He said nothing, just stepped closer, to the bottom of the steps, where she was locked in place. "I wanted to make sure you got back alright I guess, make sure everything is ok," he commented, smiling at her hopefully again, lifting his arm and sliding it around her waist where she stood in front of him. Standing on the top step made it so that he wasn't such a huge amount taller than her, and their faces were more even with each other.

"Eli," she said softly, trying to stop him from getting any closer, because she knew she would definitely give in, part of her wanting to, the other part utterly horrified because Mr. Helmet was less than two feet behind her.

"What," he whispered, leaning in to seal the deal. She reached a hand up, putting it on his mouth and pushing him back gently. "I came for warmer pants, let me get them," she said easily, hoping he would go along.

And of course he went along, he was the most agreeable and pleasant person she'd ever met in her entire life. His face dropped momentarily with guilt. "Oh – Christ, I'm sorry, Mel! You're cold, go ahead!" He urged her, and she risked a peek over her shoulder, making sure that her unwelcome guest understood they had company and had magicked himself away again. The trailer was empty and she couldn't stop the grateful smile from moving across her face for a moment.

Melanie turned and went inside, wincing a little when Eli followed her – she wanted to tell him to wait outside in the yard, but knew that would be weird of her to ask, and would raise suspicion. She bee lined for her tiny dresser built into the wall at the bedroom end, and immediately began to dig around for the pants, pushing her boots off with her feet as she did. She reached up for the accordion door, meaning to close it and Eli took a step towards her.

"I was thinking, we could spend the night in here, just the two of us," he murmured to her, holding up a hand to stop her from closing the door. Eli reached her and pulled the pants from her hands, throwing them onto the bed blindly. He held her face carefully between his two hands and bent to her, kissing her softly and quickly, before she had much reaction time.

She _should_ have immediately pushed him away, but, goddammit, she missed him so much, missed this; they hadn't seen each other in over a week, and hadn't touched each other in over two. For a guy she'd been on again and off again with since she was 16, she just couldn't get enough of him if they'd been off again for too long.

"Mel, I miss you so much," he spoke in an earnest rumble, his breath in her hair. Melanie lifted her hands to his face, touching him, but also trying to push him back a little. "I miss you too, Eli, I just don't know if _right_ now –" she began, but cut-off with a startled, breathy little half-gasp, half-shriek. She'd looked past Eli's broad shoulders and caught a glimpse of that damned Mr. Helmet, standing at the other end of the trailer, his eyebrows quirked up in interest and mockery.

Eli jumped a foot and whirled around, but before Melanie's eyes, her visitor just vanished. One instant he was _right there_ and the next he was simply gone – she'd never seen anything like it, and it left her heart pounding.

"What?" Eli said loudly, worry in his voice, "What was it?" He turned back to her, taking in her wide eyes, and open mouth. Melanie turned her gaze up to him and blinked a couple of times.

"Mel, baby, what is it?" He asked her worriedly. She swallowed and found her voice, managing to stammer out, "I thought I saw the _biggest_ spider." Eli stared at her like she'd lost her mind, before shrugging and turning back to the other half of the trailer. Before she could stop him, he was moving down the center of the trailer, head down, obviously looking for the spider.

"Eli!" She yelped in alarm, wondering what the hell could happen if he walked _into_ the invisible man. Eli stomped through where the other man had just disappeared, no harm done, and turned to her, his face slightly confused. "There is nothing here, hon," he told her, soothingly, "And it's so small in here, I don't think I'd miss it." Melanie felt like she was going to go crazy.

Sighing, and reaching out to snag her pants, she gestured at Eli. "I think you should go back, I'll be over in a minute," she said quietly, trying not to sound disappointed; any other night and she knew they'd wind up in bed together, definitely on again. Eli couldn't keep the hang dog expression from his face and it made her laugh a little. She walked over to him, stepping gingerly, worried about where the invisible man actually was, and reached up, cupping the side of Eli's face.

"Neither of us is going anywhere," she whispered to him, "We can come back to this tomorrow, or the day after, you know?" He watched her with soft eyes for a moment before leaning down and kissing her forehead. Eli turned for the door, opening it and stepping outside, pausing on the bottom step.

"Mel?" Eli asked her, and she turned to him, both hands gripping the pants now in a strangle-hold, her face flickering as she madly tried to keep the panic and anxiety of her face; the invisible man was playing with her hair right now, at the back of her head, she could _feel_ it and it was making it impossible for her to think. She was also livid because she _knew_ he was absolutely doing this on purpose.

"Yes?" She managed to reply, struggling to sound normal, and struggling not to reach back and swat as hard as possible at the unseen fingers in her hair. Eli smiled up her, not seeing anything wrong.

"Better hurry before Tala takes your beer," he warned her, only half-joking. Melanie laughed, maybe a little too shrilly, and then Eli shut the door. It was an agony of waiting for the 10 nearly seconds it took for Eli to go through the gate. As soon as she heard the familiar squeak and clatter of her gate, she sprang away from the hands in her hair, turning around and glaring balefully at Mr. Helmet, who had now reappeared and was laughing and smiling to himself.

"Oh, I bet you think you're so goddamn funny," she hissed sourly, "You are ruining my life!" He smirked at her and gave her a little bow. Melanie scowled at him and then pushed past him, into her bedroom area, yanking on the accordion door harshly, clicking it closed.

Emboldened by his being out of view, she called out angrily, "You know, for someone who detests us poor little wretches so much, you sure do like fucking with us, don't you?" She hurriedly pulled up the sweat pants, yanking them on top of the shorts she was currently wearing, before pushing open the accordion door. He was, of course, standing _right there._

His gaze was heavy and impassive and made her stomach tingle slightly as he looked down at her. "I will admit, I have not visited this realm in many ages; things are vastly different from what I can see," he commented in a low, lascivious voice, all elegance and danger wrapped together, "But, if I do remember correctly, yes, I do quite enjoy _fucking_ with your kind." He paused and she turned fuchsia, realizing what she had said, and how he was purposefully twisting it into something dirty.

"At least with the appealing ones," he added, before turning around and moving immediately and languidly back to his spot on the couch, snatching up the book there. Melanie found herself nearly panting and grabbed the bathroom door, yanking it open and throwing herself inside. She gave herself a breather, sitting on the closed-lid toilet for a moment and reaching up to her tap to splash some water on her face and wrists.

 _Are you_ attracted _to him?_ She thought to herself in horror and mild disgust. Melanie looked into the mirror, saw the pink on her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes, and realized yes, she really was mildly attracted to her stupid, helmet-loving home-invader.

Her mind immediately went to Eli, good, sturdy, loving and lovable Eli. _No, I want Eli, not an alien._ The thought came unbidden and made her laugh out loud, and with that she regained herself. Melanie grabbed a hair elastic and pulled the waved and curly mess of her dark hair back and up off her face and neck, securing it in a fat ponytail. She adjusted the draw string on her sweat pants and buttoned up her cardigan so that nothing below her collarbones were visible.

 _There, that'll do,_ she thought to herself, feeling suitably armed. Outside the bathroom, her visitor had not moved from the couch, and Melanie crammed her feet back into her boots, not looking over at him.

"If you're bored, you can watch TV," she offered him, snatching up the converter and carrying it over to him.

"What is this?" He asked, looking at the metal and plastic object in her hand.

"It's the converter, it remotely controls the TV; they're great," she said, pressing the power button. His head moved up quickly when the TV began to suddenly blare at them.

"What is this thing?" He asked her carefully, a trace of curiosity in his voice, "Those people are clearly not trapped in that box, and yet that is clearly what this box intends me to think." She turned and looked down at him and he looked up at her briefly, his eyebrows drawn together.

"It's for, um, entertainment?" She said, completely at a loss as to how to explain what a TV actually was, "It's like moving pictures?" He looked mildly interested and took the converter from her.

"Have you ever been to the theatre?" She asked him, and he nodded, not looking up at her as he poked at the channel changer buttons. Johnny Carson popped up on screen, and she nodded her head at the TV.

"It's like that, theatre shows in this box," she said, hoping that helped. He had already seemed to master use of the converter and was flicking through the four channels she had. She reached down and brushed his thumb out of the way on the channel button, her own pressing down on it. She leaned down a little closer, her attention fully drawn to the converter in his hand.

"It's late, so there won't be the greatest shows on TV right now, if any," she murmured, clicking the channel button twice until Johnny Carson was back on. "This is Johnny Carson, he interviews famous people and has a bit of a variety show, it's a fun show," she explained, frowning a little, "It's a new one too, so you're in luck." Part of her wished she could stay; Johnny kept her entertained many a late night, but Eli and her beer were waiting for her.

Melanie tilted her head, realizing she was leaned fairly close to the stranger's own face, and leaned back. He was examining her carefully, an easy, restful expression on his face. He nodded then, and she stepped back, hurrying past him to the door. Her hand paused on the handle.

"I never asked your name," she said lamely, realizing that had been incredibly stupid of her, "And I'm assuming you already know my name is Mel, Melanie – if you were interested in calling me something other than 'Midgardian' or 'little wretch'." He didn't say anything and she sighed in exasperation.

"What is your name?" She asked him, a little forcefully since it seemed he wasn't going to volunteer it without a direct request.

"It's Loki," he muttered, clicking on the volume of the converter. Johnny Carson's laugh filled the room, and Melanie pushed the door open and stepped outside, going to her friends.


	6. Chapter 6

***** Enjoy! *****

She drained her last two beer really quickly, and wasted no time moving onto Eli's beers, since he'd had enough foresight to bring a 24 pack with him. Somewhere past beer ten, Melanie realized that she had crossed that imaginary line, the drinking line, the line you couldn't come back across. At least you couldn't come back for the rest of whichever night you'd chosen to cross that line.

She ended up in Eli's lap around beer 8, and had her tongue stuck down his throat and her chilly hands under his shirt on his firm, warm chest around beer 9.

Lulee and her boyfriend retired to Lulee's bed, and Tala had mumbled something incoherent, before moving herself into her own room inside. Melanie wanted to stay with Eli, avoiding his suggestions that they go back to her place.

"It's cold out here Mel, we can't get up to any fun in the cold," he mumbled, his lips and breath hot on her neck. She didn't say a word, just grabbed his jaw and pushed his face to hers, silencing his suggestions with a kiss. She could feel his arousal beneath her, and it wasn't getting her or him anywhere as she straddled his lap while he sat in the lawn chair next to the dying fire.

Eventually, Eli lurched to his feet, keeping his hands under her behind, holding her to him, up off of the ground, and Melanie had her legs up wrapped around his waist.

"Mel" he murmured, as she attacked the soft spot behind his left ear that he loved so much, "Mel stop, either we need to go inside or we need to call it a night." To make his point, he used a hand to loosen her legs, and she slowly dropped to the floor, her feet reluctantly hitting the ground. He placed both hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently away, bending a little to look in her eyes.

"Mel," he said softly and she closed her eyes, sighing. "Eli, can't we go to your place?" She mumbled, before turning plaintive, drunken eyes up to him, "Let's do that, let's just go to your place." Her words were slurred and he shook his head.

"Mel I can't drive, gonna walk home tonight if I'm not crashing with you, and you won't it make half a mile," he explained softly, shaking his head no. Melanie pouted and then sighed, before throwing herself at him and curving her body to perfectly fit with the front of his own, kissing him deeply, and admittedly a little sloppily. Eli hummed pleasantly against her mouth before pushing her away and kissing her forehead once.

"Gimme a call when you're sober again," he told her, ruffling her hair a little.

"Spoilsport," she muttered at him, and he smiled, before turning and walking away. She watched him make his way down the road, and he stopped at the end, just a shadow against the moonlight and kissed his hand before waving at her. She found herself returning the familiar gesture without thought and knew without a doubt they would be back 'on' in a couple of days.

It took her a moment to realize she was all alone around the mostly dead fire and Melanie heaved a great sigh, not wanting to go back to her trailer, not wanting to deal with Mr. Helmet. _Loki,_ she drunkenly corrected herself, before laughing a little and saying out loud, "He said his name is Loki."

Giggling a little, she bent and picked up the remainder of Eli's case of beer, and then made her way across the road, to her gate. She fumbled at the clasp for a long moment, finally managing to open it, before tripping her way into the yard and managing to close the gate again without dropping the beer.

"Oops," she loudly whispered, when she tripped on the first stair leading to her door and smashed into the closed door, causing all the bottles to rattle and clank violent in the cardboard beer case she was carrying. She stepped back and put the beer down, before blearily turning to the door and reaching for it. _Ten beers is a lot,_ she thought to herself stupidly, _especially for me._ Her stomach felt like it might explode, and she knew that drinking away her worries was not the way she should handle things, but after the day she'd had, it hadn't been hard to convince herself to go big and drink everything she could get her hands on.

The door opened outwards into her just as her fingers grabbed the handle, and Melanie was smacked in the thigh and stomach by the edge of it. " _Ooofgghgff,"_ she managed to get out, before she fell backward. She was only one step up, so it wasn't far, but it did throw her to her ass on the dirty ground. Loki stood in the doorway and stared down at her, clearly unimpressed.

"You smell like a tavern floor," he commented flatly. She blinked at him and found her vision swimming a little bit.

"You hit me with a _door_ ," she loudly whispered, "I think you're trying to kill me." She tried to get up and her boot slid through the gravel, kicking some up and plopping her right back onto the ground again. They were both silent for a long moment until she started giggling again.

"I had _ten_ beers," she told him, as if revealing an amazing secret. He rolled his eyes and turned from the doorway, leaving her on her ass in the dirt, muttering, "Stupid child," on his way in.

"Spoilsport," she muttered, rolling to her hands and knees to get up, she paused when she realized she'd just called Eli that, too. "Everyone is spoiling my sport," she managed, between grunts of effort, as she pushed her way up to her feet. The effect of her ten beers had sailed directly to her head and she was well and thoroughly trashed. A dim part of her mind knew she needed to get inside, and onto some kind of soft sleeping surface before she wasn't able to get up and ended up asleep on the gravel in her yard.

Using the doorway as leverage, she managed to get inside, wobbling at the threshold. All the lights were out inside, and she couldn't see Loki anywhere. " _Oh noooo!"_ She hissed loudly, "You're _sleeping."_

"I was," came his reply from the vicinity of her bed. "Oops," she said quietly, before reaching out blindly for the wall by the door, wanting to lean against it to kick her boots off. She missed the wall of course, her hand catching the air of the open doorway, and began to fall face first out the still-open trailer door.

His grip on her arm was unexpected, and hurt a little, but it caught her and dragged her inside. He shut the door with his other hand, and stood glaring down at her, her upper arm caught in his grip. "Wow, you're fast," she told him, "I would've fallen right out."

He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and released her, and this time she reached up and grabbed his arm, holding it for balance so she could really get her boots off. He didn't move, but she could feel that he was very rigid beneath her grip.

When her boots were off, she shucked off the sweatpants, leaving her with the shorts she had on underneath. Next she pulled her cardigan off, right over her head, not wasting time on buttons, and dropped it to the floor. He watched her movements carefully, studying her, before closing his eyes momentarily and shaking his head.

"Unless you plan to remove all of it," he told her, gesturing at her clothes with one hand, "I suggest you get yourself to bed." Melanie smiled at him and then hiccupped.

"Haha, not a chance buddy," she replied, her words sounding as wobbly as she felt. She took one unsteady step backwards and when the backs of her knees connected with her couch, she immediately sat down.

Sitting felt wonderful and she wasted no time laying back, flat on her back. "I forget how comfortable this is," she mumbled, already falling asleep after being horizontal for mere seconds. Loki replied, but she was already falling asleep.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

He found a smaller blanket on the foot of her infernally small bed and carried it over to where she was lying flat on her back, one arm resting across her chest, her hand resting at the base of her throat. Her other hand was flung above her head, the fingers slack. He watched her sleep in the very dim light provided by the moon and stars through the chinks in the curtains, eventually laying the blanket out over her.

Mortals, Midgardians especially, it seemed to him, were so susceptible to illness and injury; their skin had next to no durability. This one was wearing the skimpy garments she'd paraded about in all day, and the night was not warm; he assumed she would grow cold and possibly freeze to death in the night, as all of them seemed to do when faced with cold and no cover or protection.

 _That was last time,_ he reminded himself _, and so long ago you hardly recognize them as humans compared to this._ He stared down at her, her hair as dark as his, but very thick, obviously much longer. He had touched her hair earlier to bother her, and found that it was remarkably soft, his fingers getting lost in the body of it when he'd skimmed them into her dark fall of hair.

He remembered Midgardians as a people that were as sturdy and hardy as the land they battled to live on. People with skin that was tough and wind chapped, pale as snow or rosy red. This little wretch had a color he wasn't used to seeing on Midgard, at least not based on his firsthand knowledge from his visits long ago.

She had a smooth expanse of golden-tanned skin, flecked with freckles in a very dark shade of brown on her shoulders. When he'd seen her outside, holding the huge bundle of cloth, he'd had a moment where he couldn't be sure if she was human, so far from the hardened Norse people, she was. Her skin was warm and soft, her hair black, her eyes dark, her stature small; it was nearly alien for Midgard, at least according to his eyes.

The "TV" had shown him that people here were so much more than he remembered. As varied here as they were across the galaxy. He glanced at the darkened screen of the TV, already wishing to see a little more. This was a realm he had last walked as a god. Now though… He'd learned much from the books he'd spent most of his life pouring over, and he'd learned that these Midgardians, these people, worshipped science now, almost beyond any worship of a deity.

He looked back at the girl – _Melanie, the little wretch,_ he said in his mind, smiling a little now. She was a huge nuisance, distracting him constantly, likely prolonging his stay here because of that. However, he _was_ attracted to her, and he'd been hard pressed in his life to stay away from the things he wanted. He felt certain that she did not feel the same in that regard though, so he was content to toy with her, to make her dark eyes snap and spark with ire.

He turned away, deciding to make use of the darkness, and slipped outside, helmet, cloak, and staff in hand, to see if he could work with the "split", as she persisted in calling it. He thought it might be better for her if he were to successfully make it through the portal this night – less disruption on her small life, and he could get back to his work.

This portal was the second one he'd found, and like the first, it had been a successful trip. He wanted to find the way to all of the nine reals, unseen by Heimdall, find a way to do things he needed to do. His ideas, his plans, his plotting, all required a great deal of patience on his part. He was finding it very satisfying work.

He mentally pictured the heated look on the girl's face when he'd spoken of fucking. Loki chuckled now, a grin splitting his features, and raised his arms to the sky, to the place where the portal sat dormant, preparing to work.

 _Very satisfying._

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

It was disgustingly hot. Melanie cranked open one of her scratchy, swollen-feeling eyes and blearily peered around the trailer. It was empty, although part of her knew that meant nothing these days. She was laying on the dinette couch, on her side, her feet hanging off the edge and they felt weird and numb. Melanie gripped the side of the dinette and pulled herself to a sitting position, creakily.

Upon sitting, she realized she was in the grips of the worst hangover she'd ever experienced.

"Uhhhhhowwwwwwww," she moaned, pressing her face into her hands for a moment.

"You're finally awake," she heard Loki speak and jerked her head towards the noise. He was sitting on the other side of the table, at the dinette end. The table had blocked her view of him while she was laying down. He raised an eyebrow at her and smirked, looking back down at the book he was perusing.

"You look very unwell," he told her quietly, "Perhaps you need to visit your privy."

"Just… no, be quiet," she mumbled, getting to her feet and letting the blanket that was bunched up around her waist slip down her legs and hit the floor. Swaying slightly, Melanie grabbed a cup off the kitchen counter on her way to the bathroom. She shoved through the little door, clicking it closed behind herself. Melanie stripped down to nothing and drank a cup of water from the sink, before flicking on the shower, keeping it comfortably cool. Stepping into the small wash area, she slowly and carefully took a much needed shower, brushing her teeth twice while in there.

Going through her regular steps of washing hair, body, and face, helped force away the crusty, dying feeling. Now she was left with a dry throat and a pounding headache. Switching the shower off, Melanie filled her cup at the sink again and took a couple aspirin, followed by guzzling another cup of water.

Her towels were still hanging on the wall from the other day, so she squeezed the excess water out of her hair before wrapping it up in the towel. She dried off, wrapping the second towel around her body and then looked in the mirror, wincing at the sight of her slightly puffy eyes.

"So, ten beers are too many," she muttered at her tired and pained reflection, pressing a hand to her temples, hoping that her empty stomach meant the aspirin would work faster. Melanie pushed the window open in the bathroom, trying to let some fresh air in, but outside was already like an oven.

"Ugh," she grumbled, opening the bathroom door into the miniscule space of her 'bedroom'. The accordion door was pulled closed when she stepped out, blocking her off from the rest of the trailer. She paused for a moment, thrown by such an unnaturally kind gesture. She didn't think Loki cared if she came out naked, dressed like a clown, or on fire.

"Thank you," she told him, softly.

"For propriety's sake, I suppose," he told her from the other side of the door, "Your propriety, not mine." She smiled a little bit and shucked the towel immediately, setting about opening all her windows in this back half of the trailer immediately.

Melanie moved as quickly as the fiery headache-boulder in her brain would let her, and smeared her lotion all over herself before she threw on her underthings, a tank top, and her denim shorts. She hung the damp towel on its hook and pried open the accordion door, before stepping out into the rest of the trailer, which felt grossly hot.

"How are you not melting?" She griped at Loki, who was sitting calmly and comfortably at the dinette. He gazed at her placidly for a moment, his eyes dipping to her bare feet and back up to her towelled head briefly.

"I am unbothered by extremes in temperature," he told her simply. Melanie felt a wave of jealously that surprised her. She couldn't keep the tired smile from her face at her reaction to his statement. "I would give literally anything to be able to say that, but it's hotter than hell in here, so you're going to have to open those windows next to you," she informed him.

He nodded briefly and turned to the task. Melanie made short work of the other windows and even decided to waste precious electricity and turn on her two fans. This gave her the energy to make coffee, which she set about immediately, her pressing urges moving from cooling down, to loading up on the life-giving beverage.

"Do you have coffee at home?" She asked idly, while getting everything arranged, her back to him.

"No," he replied shortly. Melanie rolled her eyes. "Do you have tea?" She pressed and he grunted in response.

"Well, I feel it's my duty as an ambassador for Earth, to make sure you try coffee," she told him, only half kidding. She felt her prior uncertainty regarding his presence entirely diminished in the face of her burning hangover. She'd always been a very practical and functional person, so she pressed herself through the headache and made toast for herself and for her guest, smearing peanut butter on both.

"Do you like sweet things?" She asked him, grabbing her little sugar jar. He chuckled and she turned to him, the sugar jar in her hand. He had the book put away and had clearly been sitting comfortably, watching her prepare coffee and toast.

"Is that a proposition?" He asked, smiling at her in an inviting way. That part of her that found him attractive leapt up and cheered a little at the fact that clearly he still found her appealing. The entire rest of her struggled to refrain from flinging the sugar jar at his head.

"You have a one track mind," she told him, "It's a little hard for me to be forced to share this space with you, a strange man, who won't stop hitting on me."

"I have not raised a hand to you," he was immediately serious and Melanie pressed her lips together tightly. She shook her head.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," she told him, "I'm not available."

"I don't really care my little wretch, this discussion is boring me already," he replied easily. Melanie turned back to his coffee and made it exactly as her own. She moved everything to the table and sat on the opposite end of the dinette as him, folding her legs beneath herself since he was taking up all the leg room.

They were silent as they ate and she watched him surreptitiously. He seemed to enjoy the coffee and that pleased her. "This is the coffee?" He clarified, holding up the mug and she nodded, sipping from her own.

"We drink it in the morning because it wakes you up a bit," she explained. He stared down into the contents of the mug and sniffed it, before drinking some more. They were silent again, and Melanie finished her toast, and then drew her legs up, hugging them to her chest with one hand, while the other still gripped her coffee mug.

She was staring at him at this point, and he was doing the same to her. They each examined each other's faces and thoughtfully sipped on their coffees. Finally he gestured at her with his cup.

"You look to be fairly bursting with inane questions, please get them over with," he told her. Melanie smiled at him and set her coffee cup down.

"You sure about that? Because I have about a million questions," she clarified. Loki's eyebrow flickered up and he settled back against the backrest of the dinette, a challenging look on his face.

"This seems to be a morning where we test each other, so please, do your best," he said wryly. Melanie smiled at him then and dropped her legs down, leaning forward against the table, crossing her arms on the table top.

"You asked for it," she began.


	7. Chapter 7

***** Enjoy! *****

"I think the first question is pretty obvious," she began, tilting her head slightly to one side, " _Why_ did you come here?" He stared at her, the little smirk on his face not showing any signs of movement, before shrugging and raising an eyebrow at her.

"I'm disappointed in you," he replied calmly, "That is a fairly unoriginal question." She blinked at him and then shot him a smirk of her own.

"Then that should make it easier to answer," she retorted. He nodded a head towards her, in acquiescence, before answering her simply, "I sought to find all the hidden passages that lead to all of the nine realms."

"You realize that makes no sense to me?" She told him, picking up her mug to take a sip from it and discovering that it was empty. Loki watched her movements, the smirk still resting on his pale face. "That is not my problem," he answered, "You asked a question, and I have answered it."

Melanie looked over to him, holding his stare for a long moment, her eyes narrowed. He waved a hand in her direction, feigning impatience. "Next," he ordered her. Melanie rolled her eyes and slid out from the dinette, stepping across to the kitchen counter and grabbing her sugar bowl to fix herself another mug of coffee.

"Are the nine realms like other planets?" She asked him, not turning around. She added some milk on top of the sugar, letting the two ingredients mingle together the way her mother had insisted on being served her own coffee, oh so long ago.

"Midgard – Earth – is one of the nine realms," he answered, "I hope that is clear enough for you, because the answer is more convoluted than your question would make it seem, and I have neither the time nor the patience to even begin to explain it to one such as yourself."

Melanie poured coffee on top of her milk and sugar, stirring it with a spoon in the other hand as she did. She put the coffee pot down and turned to him, finding his examination of herself less unnerving than it had been previously.

"So," she began thoughtfully, ignoring his jab at her intelligence, "You wanted to find the secret paths off your own planet?" He dipped his head in agreement and Melanie raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you trying to get away from?" She asked him, staring him directly in the eye.

"Everything," he answered her shortly. The expression in his eyes deepened for a moment, showing a brief glimpse of something profound and painful, and it made them both uncomfortable; Melanie immediately put her coffee down and reached forward to grab his mug, and he looked away.

"I'll just make you some more," she said in a soft aside. With her back to him, she felt slightly more at ease; he had unusually powerfully eyes, and she felt muddled when she looked at them for too long.

"What do you do there?" She asked him, beginning the same mix of coffee ingredients in his mug as she had in her own, "Who are you there?" He chuckled behind her and she peeked over her shoulder at him. He was looking at his hands on the dinette's table top, ruefully it seemed.

"I am a prince," he said firmly, "A trickster, a gifted liar, a powerful wielder of strange magic, a sly warrior, and a terrible enemy." He sounded almost proud. Stirring his drink, Melanie turned back to him and made a face at his description.

"That tells me absolutely nothing," she said, "Except maybe the prince part. Like actual royalty?" He nodded his head, and she handed him his drink. When his fingers touched hers on the warm mug, she sucked in a breath at how delightfully cool they were.

"That's not fair," she griped, her eyes meeting his again, "I feel like I'm baking from the inside out in the summer here, and you feel like an ice cube tray." He smiled at her words and turned back to her window, peering out at the sky. He was looking for the split, she understood the compulsion, because she found herself doing the same thing a lot too.

"So… royalty?" She prompted him, trying to make it sound teasing, although internally she was feeling a little unnerved by how he managed to stay so unearthly cool in the heat. He chuckled at that and nodded his head.

"Yes, Prince Loki of Asgard, Loki Odinson, Second Son of Odin," he recited in a bored tone, "God of Mischief, God of Fire." He paused, and met her gaze, a clearly provocative look in his eyes, before he added in a suggestive tone, "Silvertongue."

Melanie couldn't keep the laugh from bursting out, giggling at his swaggering tone and obviously flirtatious description. "Some things just don't change, do they?" She continued, a huge smile on her face as she laughed at him. He blinked at her in surprise for a moment, before he smiled as well.

"You're as bad as any guy in a bar trying to show off," she told him.

He shook his head as if she were simply too silly. "I don't need to show off," he told her, "You could just let me _show_ you. I could provide you with an example." She grabbed her mug and took a sip, laughing a little into her coffee as she shook her head.

"You're incorrigible," she muttered, forcing herself to banish the brief mental image of what showing her might entail. _Eli Eli Eli Eli,_ she forced herself to think. They were both silent for a moment as she tried to get past her laughter at his Silvertongue comment, and then her embarrassment at his offer to demonstrate it.

"So you're a god then?" She finally asked, clearing her throat a little to gain more control of the situation, "Or are you a prince and people just call you a god?"

"Your people are the ones who labelled me as a god," he reasoned, "And compared to such wretches as yourselves, I can see why they thought me one."

"My people," she replied, thinking about her own muddled ancestry, wondering what he meant.

"The Norse people," he clarified. Melanie stared blankly at him for a long moment, her brain bringing together several things he had said over the past day and his descriptions of himself now. When it clicked, she felt her stomach drop out in discomfort, and launched herself to her feet, to back away from him.

"Loki," she said aloud, her tone hesitant and worried, "Odin." He stared at her, the smile gone from his face, as he eyed her reactions carefully.

"The Norse people, as in Norse mythology," she spoke as if she was repeating the calculations of a math problem; slowly, carefully.

"Yes," he answered, not moving from his seat. Melanie began to pace a little, as much as she could in the small space of her trailer.

"So, you're like, what, a thousand years old?" She asked in bewilderment, "You're the guy from the Vikings?" Her mind was scrambling backwards, trying to dredge up history class, trying to dredge up random bits of information she'd garnered over time, relating to the subject.

"Give or take a _few_ years, yes," he replied. She stared at him, finding it hard to believe that a man who looked roughly her age was actually that old.

"How old are you?" He asked her, his voice slightly mocking. She blinked at the tone and forced a smile to her face, even as her insides were still reeling.

"I'm not a thousand," she answered him faintly, "But, but… so wait, you're _1000 years old_?" He moved as if to get up, and she held a hand out to him, urging him to stop.

"No, no, please stay there until I decide whether I'm going to freak out and puke or not," she told him. He paused, his face twitching in distaste for a moment, before he sat down and waved a hand at her. She mulled over her racing thoughts, trying to come to terms with everything she knew. The alien who fell from a sky-portal, into her yard, was actually a 1000 year old God of Mischief.

"Thor," she breathed out finally, "He's your… I mean, if you're Odin's son too, then he's your…" She couldn't finish, because she wasn't certain if any of this was going to be something she could process.

"He's my brother," Loki finished for her, "The next king, and the favored son." The dislike in his voice was unmistakeable and quite strong. Melanie forgot her own disabling confusion for a moment to look over at him. He wasn't looking in her direction any longer, but instead back out to the sky. The sun carved a yellow path along the pale expanse of his face and she felt abruptly bad for him. She recognized feelings of inadequacy when she saw them or heard them.

"Is he the reason you're trying to get away?" She asked him quietly, and he jerked his head back to her, almost as if he'd forgotten she was there. He shrugged, and released the curtain again. Melanie found her feet then, moving to the sink and filling a glass with water. She chugged it back, before filling it and draining it a second, and then third, time.

She felt full and sloshy then, but moved to sit back down across from Loki again. His eyes followed her and narrowed when she sat. "No longer afraid?" He queried, as if to make fun of her. She let out a harsh, short laugh and shook her head, before meeting his eyes.

"No, I'm terrified of you," she told him honestly, not letting her eyes leave his, "But, it's not like I have anything else to do today."

"May as well continue your interrogation then," he supplied helpfully, a small grin on his face. _He likes to be in charge, he likes to know he rules through fear and intimidation,_ she thought to herself, watching the satisfaction on his face, _he must not get that a lot back home._

"What's the point of getting away? Of knowing these pathways?" She asked, "Are you looking for a new place to live?" He shook his head, his expression growing haughty.

"Asgard is my home, don't allow your hopes to rise, my little wretch, I do not wish to stay with you," he informed her, "I merely seek power, and knowing things that others do not, having options that others cannot have, and mastering abilities and freedoms that your enemies do not possess, are all marks of power."

"It just sounds like you want a quick exit," she reasoned, "Which leads me back to _why_ you needed to know these other ways out? What are you going to do in _Asgard_ ," she paused over the unfamiliar word, looking up to the ceiling for a moment as if to grant herself strength to say something silly, "What are you going to do there, that you'll need a quick getaway from?"

He glared at her then, making her sit back a little under the weight of it. "You assume I would run like a coward?" He snarled at her, planting his hands on the table top as he rose to his feet, "You assume that anything I might plan would be _evil_ and I would flee like the villain in a child's fairy story? You _assume_ that I am in the wrong?"

Melanie felt glued to her seat, staring up at him as he towered over her, and she fought to keep herself from swallowing her tongue in fear at the look on his face right now. "I don't know anything about you," she managed to whisper, "How do I know if you're the good guy or the bad guy?"

He didn't respond for a long moment, only glowered at her for a moment longer, before taking a steadying breath and lowering himself to his seat again. "Why do you assume," he said in a quiet voice, a much flatter voice, "That this so-called 'bad guy' is in the wrong?"

"I don't," she replied quietly, "How could I? I don't know you. Like I said." She picked at the peeling decal on the outside of her coffee cup, not looking up, concerned his shifting moods would suddenly shift back to angry again. A long moment or two of silence stretched out between them, and she finally snuck a look up at him. He was watching her very closely.

An absurd part of her felt bad for him. He was a dick, for sure. He was arrogant, without a doubt, and he enjoyed power, domination, and obedience. On the other hand though, despite his vocal threats, he hadn't hurt her, he'd healed her burn, he'd prevented her from hurting herself while drunk, even covering her with a blanket while she slept (she hadn't missed that piece of information). He was playful and enjoyed teasing and joking; he'd earned the Trickster title honestly, of that she was certain.

He was also very clearly carrying a chip on his shoulder the size of a small star. She knew family baggage when she saw it. Things at Chez Odinson couldn't be very good for him if he was willing to jump through dangerous space-holes to escape them.

"Can I tell you something?" She blurted out suddenly. He raised both eyebrows at once, clearly not expecting her to say anything at all, and leaned back in his seat, lifting both his arms up and resting them along the back of the dinette seat.

"By all means," he urged her, his voice smooth and satisfied. It was clear he felt like he'd come out on top in their back and forth.

"I never knew my father," she told him, "He died when I was a baby." His expression didn't flicker, he just continued to watch her with casual suspicion. "It was just my mother and I," Melanie continued, her eyes meeting his briefly before she looked away, waving her hand around herself, "And I didn't grow up here, like this."

"You mean in complete squalor?" He murmured teasingly, and she pursed her lips and glared at him. "Apologies, continue, you testy little creature," he told her after she didn't start speaking again. Melanie settled herself a little more comfortably in her seat.

"My father was a professor, at the University of New Mexico, up in Albuquerque," she got in to the rhythm of story-telling again, and when her eyes next met his, she didn't see someone who frequently scared the shit out of her, she saw an acquaintance she was chatting with over coffee.

"Mom was an accountant, very successful, they both were, and we had a lot of money, lived in a big house, took big vacations, owned all the important stuff," she looked to the window and pulled open the curtain without thinking, her eyes searching for the split, "I was their only child, who arrived by accident late in life for them both." She let the curtain close and looked back at him, and saw him still regarding her calmly.

"My father was over-joyed with my arrival, for the short time he knew me, but mom, she let me know I was an unexpected burden as often as possible," Melanie reached up and gently tugged at the towel in her hair, letting her damp locks tumble in dark disarray to her shoulders.

"So, naturally, I over-compensated, trying my damnedest to make her love me," she smiled ruefully, tugging her fingers half-heartedly through the wet tangle of her hair, "I excelled in school, I excelled at sports, I played piano, I took dance, I led my Girl Scouts troupe." She shoved the towel from her hair down on to the dinette seat beside herself and took a peek over at Loki afterwards, seeing that he was still watching her intently, his emotions closed-off from his face.

"I was the smartest, most popular, prettiest girl," Melanie laughed and looked down at her plain, worn tank top, and then up to his eyes again, "I wore the right clothes, knew the right people, said the right thing, and always, always behaved as the very, very best."

"And it made no difference, I assume," he spoke quietly but evenly, and Melanie nodded, her eyes still hooked on his. "Not a bit," she agreed, "Plus, I was miserable all the time. _All the time._ " Melanie pulled her fingers from her hair and got up, snagging her towel as she got to her feet.

"My dad died, when I was about 8 months old, so even though I had old family friends tell me how over joyed he was at his 'surprise' baby, I'd never experienced it," Melanie continued her story as she hung her towel up on the little hook affixed to the inside wall of her tiny bathroom, "So, by the time I was 16, I was worn out, worn down, just completely done."

She grabbed her hairbrush and took it to her hair, ripping at the snarls idly while she thought about how best to continue the story. Loki shifted in his seat to turn back and look at her.

"And your mother finally recognized the strain and everything turned to gold," he inserted this comment snidely, as if the next part was predictable and stupid. Melanie stiffened and turned to him, her hair brush lowering in her hands.

"No, I snapped one morning and screamed at her over breakfast, ranting and raving like a lunatic; I poured out every corner of my heart and soul to her, bared every piece of myself and my fears, and my hurt, and my insecurities. I made it clear that I wanted nothing more in life than for her to love me," Melanie answered, "And she looked at me as if I were nothing more than a dirty nuisance and left for work." She lifted the brush to her hair again, feeling the familiar tightness in her chest winding around her lungs and heart, squeezing painfully.

"Her car was hit by a huge truck on the way to the office and she died on impact," Melanie's voice came out a little more quietly, but she kept it together because the hurt was an old one, "I wound up with a lot of money from both of them, and also ended up in the foster system, which is over-crowded, and it moved me all the way out here."

She remembered the sullen, scrawny mess she'd been when she was dumped into the public school system out here. The horror of living in a foster home with so many other unhappy kids. Until she met Tala, and then Eli.

"My friends saved me," she muttered, "I was lucky I met them, they made things better." Melanie looked up and saw him studying her, his face hard.

"And what, pray tell, was the point of that story?" He asked her finally, when it became apparent she was done. She felt a strange uprising of anger inside her and flung her hairbrush at her bed.

" _What_ the hell is wrong with you?" She snapped at him, feeling her face heat with anger, "What was the _point?_ The _point?_ The _point is,_ I was trying to relate to you! I was trying to tell you I understand feeling like shit in your family!"

"I don't recall needing you to understand or relate to my situation, which you are reading a lot in to all on your own," he answered easily, climbing to his feet and stepping towards her, "Although it is quite _sweet_ of you to try." Melanie glared at him furiously.

"If you treat the people in your family this way, then it's no wonder that they don't like you," she retorted. He merely laughed and moved to stand in front of her. She scowled up at him, not stepping back from him, even though she knew he was standing before her to try and intimidate her with his size again.

"You don't scare me," she whispered bravely, trying to stand tall and keep her glower intact. He made a slight face, as if to say ' _sure I don't_ ', and moved quickly, grabbing her face in both hands and bending his head to hers, pressing his lips to hers swiftly and firmly.

She was stunned because she didn't expect it, and also because his hands were wonderfully, deliciously cold, even his lips were cool against hers, in a nice way. One of the hands on her face, slid backwards into the wet tangle of her hair and it felt unbearably _right,_ and she made a little noise against his mouth; part pleasure and part irritation. It felt like fighting against herself when she brought her own hands up to his shoulders and pushed, shoving him off of her.

"No!" She yelped, frowning at him, "What made you think that was appropriate?" He smirked at her and licked his lips briefly, holding his hands up as he took a step back from her.

"My intentions were not _appropriate_ ," he answered, smiling at her smoothly, "But don't deny that you enjoyed it, my little wretched one." Melanie rolled her eyes and couldn't keep a responding smile from her own face.

"No dice, pal," she retorted, shoving past him, back into the front half of the trailer. He chuckled behind her. "Such a waste," he told her throatily, "I'm not used to being denied you know."

"Honestly, I don't doubt that," she admitted, "But I'm not available."

"Don't tell me it's that idiotic beast who followed you home yesterday?" Loki complained, lowering himself onto the dinette again, "Now, _that_ would truly be a waste of this," he waved a hand at her and she felt her cheeks burning.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," she muttered, part of her cursing her idiotic devotion to Eli, and the other part of her staunchly determined to defend him.

"It was worth a try, though," he said, a laugh in his voice. She stared at him for a long moment, the smile slowly sliding from her face. He had one eyebrow raised as he watched her watching him.

"You sneaky bastard," she said slowly, realization dawning on her, "You're just trying to distract me, aren't you?"

"Is it working?" He asked and she shook her head.

"Not anymore," she informed him, and he dipped his head in her direction.

"You want to know my big plans, little wretch?" He asked her, his voice getting lower and darker, "You want to know why I seek portals to all the realms, what I'm planning? And against whom?" She nodded, even though the tone of his voice was making her feel cold inside.

"I plan to overthrow my brother, be rid of him completely, kill him if need be," Loki told her, his voice turning into a throaty growl, "I will show my father that I am the son he needs, and that eventually I will be the king Asgard needs. I never used to want to rule, I wasn't born with the taste for it in my mouth – all I ever wanted was to be Thor's equal, in the eyes of my father, in the eyes of my brother, in the eyes of my people. I have been denied that, denied dignity, denied equality, denied understanding; _denied everything thrown at Thor's feet!_ " She didn't speak, just stared at him, his vehemence almost painful.

"So now, things have changed, and I have decided that I _do_ want power, and I will have it," he told her, "I want control, and I want obedience, and I will have those."

"I am a patient man, and I will bid my time, and then I will tear down my brother and rebuild _my_ world in his stead."

Melanie gaped at him for a long moment, his hard eyes fully arresting hers, before she tore herself away, turning from him and breaking the spell. She took a couple deep breaths and turned back to him, a more settled expression on her face.

"Then you missed the point of my story," she told him quietly, "When you snap, and let them have it, it won't change anything. If they don't see your worth now, then they never will. You'll only hurt yourself and deepen the problems between you all if you do things your way, trust me on this one." He swallowed and looked away from her.

"Loki," she insisted, "Don't waste your time on revenge, it's going to eat you up inside." Loki ignored her and pried open the curtain. He waved a hand at her at the same time she felt the hair on the back of her neck rising up.

"The portal is back," he told her, lunging to his feet. She let him stomp by her, and he ripped the door open and stormed outside.

"Wait!" She called to him, spinning towards the door, suddenly concerned that he was standing outside looking, well, looking like himself, in the broad light of day. Melanie stumbled to the door, feeling numbed and nearly hobbled from the conversation they'd had, not to mention the remnants of her blinding hangover. When she stepped out onto the stairs outside her door, she saw only Eli, dressed in Loki's clothing, helmet on his head, staff over his back, standing beneath the split, his arms raised to the sky as green light flowed over and around his hands wrists.

She knew it was Loki, and she was pissed that she found the sight both alarming and alluring. He turned to her, smiling, and she had to shake her head again, because the sight was so confusing. His idea of disguise was not the greatest, considering that he was openly performing alien magic in her backyard.

"I feel the winds of change, little one," he called to her, "I can make it through now, I am certain. Stay over there, for your sake, please." The yard was growing windier and windier around them, and she didn't know if it was the split or magic or both, but change _was_ in the air.

"I thank you," he told her, slightly more subdued, nodding at her in a clear farewell. The day had changed on a dime, and she was struggling to keep up with the rapidly altered circumstance facing her. Loki was leaving, for real, for good. She felt a strange pang in her chest.

Melanie waved at him hesitantly as he turned away, and then she stupidly, so, so, stupidly, took one short involuntary step down her stairs. As soon as her feet touched the pebbly ground of her backyard, she lost control of her limbs, seemed to lose control of her very gravity, and felt herself dragged towards the ground between the split, towards Loki. His back was to her as he rose from the ground, through the dark air, up towards the split. Melanie clawed wildly at the air and the ground, aware that she was now fully caught inside the same dark, swirling funnel of air and magic.

She tried to yell out to him, to let him know she was stuck, but it was too late. New Mexico disappeared around her as she felt stretched and pulled towards the split, moving so quickly that her vision was a sickening blur. Nothing and everything existed between her world and his, and as he shot through the infinitely finite space between worlds, she was dragged along behind, a helpless captive to the powerful undertow of his magic. Her mind, with its simple experiences could not process all that lay before them, and she squeezed her eyes closed forever, just for a moment.

Melanie felt her heart beating rapidly in her chest, her breath locked in her throat, and when an explosion of light and sound was suddenly foisted upon them, as they made it through the other side of the split, her eyes popped up in alarm. The ground was rushing up to meet her and then Melanie passed out.

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She was blissfully unaware as she landed heavily and gracelessly on the ground behind Loki. His own arrival and landing had been easy and planned, hers was an unmitigated disaster. He heard the air leave her lungs in a whoosh as she thudded to the ground. When he turned to see her collapsed and huddled form laying on the ground behind him, he had a moment of complete and utter shock, followed by irrational fear, finally followed by concern for her wellbeing.

The split had closed by this point and he crouched down and gathered her up in his arms, swiftly enveloping her in the shroud of his magic that kept him out of Heimdal's vision. Loki stared down at her face smeared with blood from a cut she'd sustained, and dirt from the ground she had landed on, and cursed.

There was really only one thing he could do at this point, regardless of how much it bothered him to have to do so. He blinked his eyes and was in his quarters in the palace immediately. Laying her swiftly down on his bed, Loki backed away and looked around his room wildly, not sure where to start in his efforts to handle this situation.

"Why couldn't you simply stay put, as you were ordered to," he griped to her quietly, watching her carefully as she remained unconscious. He moved towards her again and ran a gentle hand down her face, from her forehead, over both eyes, and down to her neck, allowing his magic to seek out any wrongs within her. He was able to ascertain that she was not seriously hurt, aside from a few bumps, bruises, and the ugly cut on her head, and felt relief. _Midgardians are stronger than I thought, at least this one is – I have underestimated them,_ he thought in mild wonderment, drawing one of his blankets up and over her, deciding to let her ride out the wave of unconsciousness naturally.

He would find a way to deal with this, he just had to think on it for a few moments. He knew his value, his intelligence, and knew he would simply figure this out and swiftly send her home. Before he could put even one iota of effort into thought though, there was banging at his door, and he heard his brother on the other side, roaring his name in what sounding like worry.

Sighing, Loki glanced back at the little human and waved his hand at her, rendering her fully immobile and invisible, before trudging towards his door. _But of course my dear brother is here, gods know I couldn't be given a moment to myself when Thor is about._

He took a deep breath, thrust back his exasperation, worry, and upset, and pulled the door open to face his brother.


	8. Chapter 8

***** Enjoy! *****

"Brother, where have you been? Mother has been most worried about you," Thor's voice rumbled in its typical, speech-giving way and Loki had to use every portion of his inner strength to keep from rolling his eyes or saying something rude.

"I've been nearby," Loki answered simply, "There was no reason for worry." Thor's face twisted briefly, as if he were debating whether to say something.

"But Heimdall –" Thor began, and Loki waved his hand once, imperiously, through the air between them.

"Yes, yes, he could not find me," he interjected. Thor's eyebrows rose expectantly. Loki sighed. "This should not surprise him, or Mother, I've been doing it since I was a boy," Loki placated, "It's easier for me to learn, to practice, when I'm not burdened by an audience."

"He's hardly standing before you, applauding," Thor reasoned. Loki repressed another sigh, wanting this conversation to come to a swift end; he was very aware of the unconscious human hidden on the foot of his bed.

"You couldn't understand," he said in a quiet voice, looking away, "I was on the verge of advancing myself, of reaching a higher plane of enlightenment and knowledge, I had almost – ". This time Thor cut him off, smiling broadly, his eyes glazing over with boredom, just as Loki had known they would.

"Yes, yes, I will let Mother know you have returned, I am glad to see you well, Brother," Thor boomed pleasantly. Loki nodded, a small smile pulling at the edges of his mouth.

"Tell Mother I will come to her later, I find myself in need of rest," Loki excused himself from an immediate meeting with his Mother, and Thor clapped him heartily on the back, before turning on his heel and striding away. Loki couldn't keep the irritation from his face now, but swiftly shut the door to his room, sealing it with a silent, simple spell immediately.

He turned to the bed, and waved a hand in the direction of it, the little human's form becoming visible immediately. He realized, as soon as the spell was lifted, that she had woken up during his conversation; her skin was chalky pale and her eyes wide open and shiny – she was terrified. He winced a little, internally, imagining what it would have been like to return to consciousness frozen in your body; fully aware, but still as a stone.

"Perhaps you wouldn't find yourself in this current predicament if you'd only listened to me," he said in lieu of anything comforting. Her eyes swung over to him, the very slightest measure of relief flooding her dark gaze. The relief fled quickly, as she scrambled to a sitting position, her head swinging around so wildly that her hair flapped around her neck.

He expected a tirade, anger, maybe tears. Instead, like a wild animal, she sprang from the bed and raced for the nearest door, which happened to lead to his closet. Pulling the ornate handle, she lunged through the doorway into the darkness beyond, out of his sight. A small squawk of unhappiness came from within the closet a moment later, as she seemed to discover that it was only a place to store clothing, not an escape route. He couldn't help the smile that spread on his face; she was amusing him without meaning to, again.

"You stupid little thing, that's not an exit," he called lightly towards the door.

" _Where have you taken me?"_ She moaned miserably, her voice muffled from within the confines of the closet. He rolled his eyes and strolled towards the door she was hidden behind.

"Will you come out of there?" He asked politely, "I think you've pieced together where you are."

"Your planet?" She asked, her voice so quiet he had to strain to hear it.

"I will not talk to you through a door, come out immediately," he ordered. There was silence. He wondered for a moment if she had lost consciousness again.

"No," came her response, quiet but firm.

"You can't mean to hide in there forever," he reasoned.

"Not forever," she replied from within, "Just until you take me back."

"I intend to return you as swiftly as I can," he told her, "I don't want you here."

"That makes two of us," came the rueful response. He grew suddenly irritated with this continued scenario and pulled the door open, it was dark within, but he waved his arm and the interior lit up. He didn't see her at first, but when a row of cloaks to his left moved on their own, he turned to them and swept them aside with an arm.

Melanie was crouched on the floor, pressed against the wall, her head in her hands. "Well you found me," she muttered.

"Get up," he ordered. She tilted her head and gazed up at him for a moment, her face the picture of misery.

"Can't you just figure this out on your own and I'll stay in here?"

"I had no intention of involving you in solving the problem you caused," he informed her shortly. She took a deep breath and nodded, and he bent swiftly to her, snatching up her arm.

"Stop it! Goddamn it! Don't touch me!" She shrieked, as he dragged her out of the closet. She regained her feet halfway back to the bed and tried to kick him.

"Why must you make everything difficult?" He snapped, heaving her towards the bed, "Just be still!"

"You think _I_ made things difficult? You decided to be shat out into my yard through that goddamn split, not me!"

"And you couldn't even follow one simple directive and remain out of harm's way! I told you to stay back!" He yelled back at her, releasing some of his own frustration, glad that the room was shielded for noise. She pressed her lips together tightly, holding back whatever tirade she'd had planned, and instead turned away from him, her arms crossing over her chest. He watched her catch her breath, before turning away himself, striding back to the closet and slamming the door.

He paused, his hand resting flat against the surface of the closed door, telling himself to calm down. Frightening her here did him no good, and she would only prove a larger nuisance than she already was if she were terrified.

"Trust me when I say that this is less than ideal for me," he reassured her, "However, I _have_ already proven that travel _back_ to your wretched world is easily done." He turned away from the closet to face her, and was greeted with an empty bed.

His breathing quickened as he looked around the room in worry, settling when he spotted her small form standing in the open double doorway that led to his balcony. Almost all of Asgard and a huge portion of the palace and its grounds were visible from this vantage point. She was standing directly against one side of the huge doorway, up against the doorframe, partially hidden by the drapes. She had one hand over her mouth and the other was clenched in a fist against her chest.

"This is Asgard," he explained, his voice gentler than it had been before, as he approached her carefully. She didn't move in acknowledgement of his words, only spoke into her fist, "No shit." He stood silently next to her, trying to see it through her simple view. To him it was simply all that he knew, familiar. To her it must look impossible, unreal.

"How am I even here?" She muttered, her hand dropping from her mouth, fingertips pressing into her chin.

"I think you know the answer to that," he responded flatly. She turned her head then, glaring up at him.

"I'm having a moment here, Loki," she snapped softly, "Could you allow me that? Jesus!" Her ire seemed to break the spell of her fear and awe and she spun away from him, walking carefully out onto the balcony, resting her forearms on the ledge, peering cautiously down.

"I'm literally speechless," she said quietly, belying her words with her words. He laughed shortly and joined her, sitting easily on the edge of the balcony, facing her. She stared out at everything around them, her eyes large and shining with wonderment. A smile slowly spread on her face, and he watched her grow increasingly more enraptured.

"This place looks like the pictures of heaven from Sunday school," she told him softly, "It even smells good here." He didn't reply, just watched the breeze pull strands of her still slightly damp hair away from where it was tucked behind an ear. She absentmindedly tucked it back when it tickled her cheek.

"Are you well?" He asked her carefully, not wanting to shatter the brief peace of the moment, but feeling compelled to say something. She looked over at him then, meeting his eyes, her own brow pulled down in confusion.

"What?" She asked. He gestured at her.

"You were injured when you came through and, ah, landed, on this side," he clarified. She seemed to hold her breath for a moment, as if testing how she felt.

"I feel alright, I guess, you know besides the fact that I'm one or two heartbeats from a coronary," she answered him, only partially joking. He smirked at her.

"At least your terrible sense of humor is still intact," he responded, the smirk still pulling at the corners of his mouth. She looked skyward for a moment, as if seeking strength, and then shook her head.

"I cannot think of anyone less comforting than you to have around right now," she told him, "You should be saying things like, ' _everything's going to be alright"_ and " _I promise no harm will come to you_." Her imitation of his accent was ridiculous and it made him want to laugh. Instead he got up and strode back towards the doors.

"Everything will be fine, and no harm should come to you," he answered in a haughty voice, "provided of course that you are capable of following simple orders from here on out, and not behaving like an idiotic child."

"Loki," her tone was a warning, but he ignored it and went inside, satisfied that she was unlikely to attempt escape by flinging herself from the balcony. He walked past the bed, past the closet, to a sitting area on the far side of the room. Once there, he waved his hand over the surface of a small table there and a book became visible at once.

"Show off," she spoke from directly behind him and he turned to her, mildly startled; he hadn't heard her approach.

"To keep prying eyes from what is not theirs to look upon," he informed her tersely. Melanie nodded and sat on the couch, curling her legs up in front of herself. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her head on her knees.

"Are you cold?" He asked her haltingly; playing host was not something he excelled at. She looked up at him and winced a little.

"I'm wearing New Mexico stuff, it's not really fitting for this place," she explained, almost apologetically.

"You should have grabbed yourself something while you were hiding in the closet," he told her, his tone less welcoming. She got to her feet, an angry look on her face as she made her way back towards the closet. He stopped her, grabbing her arm again.

She turned her head to look up at him, clearing upset with being manhandled again. He raised his eyebrows at her warningly. "Don't stay in there or I will remove you by force," he threatened her. She pulled on the hold he had on her and then frowned.

"Let go of my arm," she spoke in a low voice. He didn't let go, only shook her a little.

"Fine, I'm coming back out, alright? I _promise_ ," she spoke in an irritatingly sweet voice and he released her, a disgusted look on her face.

"Don't speak to me like that," he warned her. She stomped off, waiting until she was several paces away before answering.

"I'll speak to you anyway I want, _especially_ if you're going to be a jerk," she shot back. He stared impassively at her, and she only held his gaze for a moment before she scurried into the closet, her bravery running its course.

Grumbling, he turned back to the book, a book of his own notes and research on the portals he so desperately sought. He had new information to enter into the book, and he wanted to study the work he'd already done. The sooner he found a way to get her back to Midgard, the better. Her presence was unwelcome, especially because he was beginning to enjoy it.

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She felt no desire to hide in the closet now. Melanie paused in the middle of the little room that seemed to house more clothing than any one person could ever possibly need. "This is bigger than my whole damn place," she grouched, mostly just to hear the sound of her own voice. She was feeling freaked out still, sure. As she pawed slowly through garment after garment, she tried to tell herself that any person on Earth would be equally, if not more, terrified than she was currently.

Oddly though, she was comforted that she was here with Loki. She wasn't sure half the time whether he wanted to smack her or kiss her, but she felt certain he would find a way to get her home. _After all, he doesn't want you cramping his style anymore._ Melanie pulled a heavy green cape off its hanger, admiring the sleek fabric it was made out of. _This looks expensive,_ she thought to herself, dropping it to the floor when she decided it wouldn't suit her purposes.

Everything in this closet was obviously Loki's; made for him, fit for him, his colors, his tastes. She just wanted a little something more to cover up her arms and legs, her tank top and shorts not really providing much warmth or security. As she came across more and more inappropriate items, she simply dropped them to the floor on her way through.

Finally she came across a long row of shirts, long sleeves and long in length. _Are these called tunics? Is that a thing? Am I calling it the right thing?_ She pulled a dark green one off its hanger and pulled it over her head. It was dress-length on her, coming to her mid-calves, the sleeves hanging ridiculously long.

Melanie grimly rolled the sleeves up, taking care that the rolls were even and tight, eventually getting them to her wrists, the cuffs now thick and round. The neckline swam on her a little, but there was a little drawstring through it, so she pulled it closed as tightly as possible, tying a ragged little bow with it. It drooped like a round collar now, exposing the tops of her collar bones, but it was much, much better than a tank top.

Turning back to the rows of clothing, Melanie pulled the sashed belt off of some kind of vest looking thing and tied that around her waist, so she felt less like she was wearing a potato sack. Bumbling through the mess of clothes she'd left on the floor (knowing that the mess would piss Loki off and looking forward to his irritation with a weird sort of glee), Melanie made her way to the large door. There was an ornate mirror on the back of it and she paused, posing exaggeratedly, and laughing at her reflection. She looked stupid; the shirt did not fit and she looked like she was playing dress-up in daddy's clothes.

As she stepped out of the closet, shutting the door on the mess within, she sighed quietly. Finding clothing had proven to be an adequate distraction, but now she was left to face her current predicament head-on. _How do I get back through the portal? Loki fell a long way out of the split, but he's a frigging god – the drop could paralyze me or kill me._ She was terrified to travel through the endless nothing between their worlds, alone. Melanie sighed and gazed about the room. She figured the correct term for Loki's bedroom was _quarters_ rather than bedroom. It was huge, heavily influenced by the colors he obviously preferred: black, gold, and green. Restful to look at, but not restful enough to calm her mind.

She wondered how long she would have to stay here. If anyone back home would notice she was gone. Melanie was a creature of habit, all her friends knew that, especially Eli. If she didn't follow her normal patterns for more than a day or two, he'd be frantic.

 _It's not like you can call him on the phone and tell him you're on vacation,_ she sniped to herself.

"You look simply ravishing," Loki's dry, obviously mocking tone drifted over from the sitting area he was still occupying.

"Shut up," she shot back immediately, turning to walk over to him; she'd been standing, daydreaming and thinking to herself, outside the closet for too long, and she didn't want him to ask what was wrong because she'd never be able to stop talking if she started voicing her worries.

Lowering herself onto the couch, Melanie only faltered for a moment when his voice lowered and he replied dangerously, "And I hope, for your sake, that you didn't make a mess of my things."

"Oh no, what are you going to do? Throw me into another dimension?" She replied in faux-trepidation, over-doing it by bringing her hands up to her face as she stared at him with wide eyes. He snorted and looked back down at his book. Melanie sat as quietly as she could, for as long as she could, watching him read.

"I don't know what the custom is on your horrid little planet," Loki began, not looking up, "But here, it is considered rude to stare at another person for a long time."

"I'm bored, can I help or something?" She replied, feeling a flush on her cheeks despite herself, that she'd been caught staring. Loki looked over at her incredulously, one dark eyebrow sloping upwards in disbelief. "How do you propose to assist me?" He asked her softly, obviously struggling mightily to hide a grin. Melanie shrugged carelessly, feeling a little embarrassed.

"I don't know, I could… well, I could… you could," she trailed off, her cheeks flaming. Loki's grin broke through then and he laughed.

"Darling, there is nothing you can offer that would assist me with this," he smoothly told her, "Your limited intellect is of no use to me."

"You're such an asshole," she snapped, "I just want to help, to make this go faster." His smile withered and he glared at her.

"Oh, a thousand pardons, my little wretch," his voice was snarky and she pressed her lips together tightly, "Would you care to unwind the mysteries of the universe alone, then?" He shoved the book at her, leaving it on her lap. "Here, please, read on, unravel and unwind, I leave this in your capable hands." He got up and strode away from the couch, towards his book shelf.

"Dick," she muttered, pushing the book and its incomprehensible language off of her lap. Melanie climbed to her feet and moved to stand a few feet behind him. "Last time, at my place, you didn't have a book, you just said you were studying it, standing in the backyard, why don't you do the same here?" She reasoned, "Shouldn't we go back to the split? So you can, I don't know, study it? Stare at it? Whatever you were doing before?"

Loki turned to her and rolled his eyes, before wiping a hand over his mouth as he stepped closer to her. "Let me put this in terms you might grasp," he told her harshly, "You cannot help me. You know nothing of value to me or this situation. You single-handedly created a problem I was not prepared to deal with, and you are making a pest of yourself when you should be sitting silently, praying that I do not grow tired of trying to help you."

Melanie stared up at him, feeling stung. She didn't know how to make him understand. He seemed to think her questions were meant to belittle him, or suggest he didn't know how to handle this situation. Really, she was fully aware that she shouldn't have stepped off her trailer's front steps, and that she was here because she made an idiotic mistake.

Biting her lip, she turned away, moving to head back towards the balcony; she may as well stay out of the way by staring out at something fascinating. Loki's hand gripped her arm, stopping her with a jerk. She turned back to him again, taking a deep breath to keep from yelling at him.

"I have a name," she told him firmly, "You don't need to drag me around like a little kid, just use your goddamn words." When she met his eyes, she was again struck by the intensity of his gaze – it was unnerving, it was beautiful.

"Melanie," he said her name silkily, releasing her arm, "Where are you going?"

"To get out of your way," she replied, trying to ignore how wonderful her name sounded in his voice and with his accent. He nodded, and before she could stop him, he leaned towards her, one hand capturing her chin, the other her waist, and he brought his mouth to hers.

This time, not in her home, not in her world, the constant niggling thoughts of Eli were wispy and indistinct. She found herself returning the kiss, her own hands grasping his shoulders, pulling him closer to her. She was fairly certain she still couldn't stand him; he was arrogant and a total jerk. However, she felt like the kiss was releasing a lot of their pent-up frustrations, a lot of the tension that had been inexorably building between them. Melanie was also certain that both of them found their antagonistic relationship a total and complete turn on. The more irritated and churlish they were with each other, the more enticing their proximity was to one another. _At least that's your excuse._

His hand slid from her chin to her hair, which he grabbed a tight handful of, holding her in place. Melanie reciprocated, grasping at his hair with own hand. He grunted a little, liking it, she thought, and began to move her backwards, their steps slow and careful as they remained locked in their embrace, their mouths and tongues moving together.

When the backs of her knees hit something soft, she pushed away from him, breaking their kiss when she realized it was his bed. "No," she murmured, "No way." He looked down at her, taking a deep breath, clearly frustrated.

"I could make you," he replied easily, his voice nearly a purr as his hand stroked her face, "It would only take the smallest amount of magic to bend you." She glared at him then, moving her hand from his face.

"Don't you dare, you're better than that," she growled. He smiled brightly then, clearly amused, and he stepped away from her, laughing a little. "Of course I would do no such thing; women always come willingly to my bed," he informed her, "They come begging for it."

"I'm sure they do," Melanie laughed a little, "I don't doubt it, but I'm not doing that, I'm at a distinct disadvantage here and I'm not going to do that to myself."

"Do what to yourself? Experience more pleasure than you could ever dare to want? Find yourself with a man who could satisfy you in ways your creature on Midgard never could?" Loki was smiling as he spoke and his eyes were still warm and intense. Melanie looked away, before turning and walking towards the balcony.

"You need to get back to that book and find a way to get me home soon," she urged him, turning and frowning a little at him, "Because I have a feeling that sleeping with you would be a big mistake for both us."

"Both of us?" He asked, clearly not believing her, "The honour would be all yours." Melanie stepped outside, and spoke over her shoulder, deciding to dish some arrogance back at him, smirking herself this time.

"I'm pretty unforgettable myself," she assured him, "You would never forget me; I'd ruin you for all other women, buddy." She could hear him laughing behind her and she smiled as she settled herself on the bench outside, half of her hoping he'd come out and press his case, the other half hoping she hadn't flirted too hard with ole Silvertongue.

His laughing, seductive, voice drifted out to her as he made his way back to his studying, "I welcome the challenge."


End file.
